


Ven Aak Hi

by TheWolfWhoWaited



Series: Sky Above, Voice Within [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon? What Canon?, Dragonborn DLC, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Well - Freeform, especially the dragon lore, im keeping it as canon as i can while fixing todd coward's mistake, in which we play fast and loose with tes lore, just throw the main quest of dragonborn out the window tbh, miraak and the ldb plot against mora, miraak isnt as big as an ass as he could have been award, miraak tries at least at that, post game stuff, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWhoWaited/pseuds/TheWolfWhoWaited
Summary: The work of a Dragonborn is never done, Cara discovers as she is attacked on the streets of Whiterun. Assassins, sent for her. Following the trail to Solsthiem, she finds knowledge and fights for not only her life, but that of one thought long gone from this world.With two Dovahkiinne in the same era, in such close proximity, what could happen?A tale of a reluctant and anonymous Dragonborn, her trials, tribulations, relationships, and path to her greater destiny.





	1. Alok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the rest of Cara's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm back on my bullshit here with a fic about everyone's favorite asshole. 
> 
> This fic is gonna take some liberties with dragon and dragon cult lore, language especially. If the dovahzul translation isn't in the fic, translations are gonna be at the bottom. 
> 
> Anyway! I hope y'all enjoy! 
> 
> All Skyrim and Elder Scroll material, characters, etc, belong to Bethesda and all that jazz. Cara is really only mine.
> 
> Title translation: Ven Aak Hi - Wind Guide You  
> Chapter Title translation: Arise

Dawn was just breaking over Solstheim when the _Northern Maiden_ came into the port at Raven Rock. Carawen was greeted with a small town, covered in a layer of ash.

The temperature surprised her. They were farther North than Winterhold, yet the air wasn’t the same frigid, howling wind that constantly whipped at the College. Here, the air was just as dry, but the ash rain and heat from Red Mountain must have thawed the island just a little.

The town was deserted. It surprised her.

A Dunmer approached her.

“Outlander, state your business here.” He said to her.

“I’m looking for someone named Miraak.”

* * *

_Lightning danced from her fingertips, the guard’s swords still drawn, blood still coating their blades._

_“Are you alright, Dragonborn?” one guard asked._

_Cara looked through at him through the slits in Konahrik’s mask._

_“I’m fine, thank you.”_

_The men had strange masks. She pulled one off. He was a Dunmer, odd. The Dunmer didn’t care about the Dragonborn. That was part of Nordic culture. She dug around in his robes and produced a note, albeit a bit scorched from where her lightning had singed his robes._

_"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn before she reaches Solstheim._

_Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."_

_Miraak._

_“Allegiance Guide?” she questioned._

_The guard looked at her. “What?”_

_She shook her head. “Nothing, just someone thought they could kill the Dragonborn I guess.”_

_“I’ll inform the Jarl, make sure no more of these men are allowed in the city.”_

_“Thank you, but they’re after me, specifically. But informing Balgruuf about what look like cultists in his city would be best.”_

_“Can we clear them? Or do you need to investigate more?”_

_“No, thank you. I’m done with them. They’re Dunmer, see that they’re cremated. They may have tried to kill me but their cultural traditions should be respected.”_

_“Aye.”_

_Carawen’s gaze moved to the Monahven._

_This name sounds like a dov, but a dovah’s name is three words, not two. Maybe a dragon priest then? Perhaps she should ask Paarthunax. Or maybe Odahviing. She’d call for the red dragon, just not in Whiterun where she can terrify the locals._

_It was still light out, and she readjusted her pack on her shoulder and walked through the gates of Whiterun, and out a good half mile away from the city before she let her voice call the red dovah._

* * *

Odahviing had warned her about Miraak, and asked her to not go, but she was determined to get to the bottom of this. He had lived thousands of years ago, there was no way he was still alive, especially since Odahviing seemed so confident that he was killed for his betrayal of the dragons.

So this Miraak was one of a few things: a pretender that found his name, maybe even his mask and tricked people into following him, an undead priest that enslaved the minds of those following him, or an undead priest that just happens to have a cult following.

Cara was loathe to find out which one.

“The name seems familiar, outlander, but not one I immediately recognize.”

“He’d be an old dragon priest, maybe there’s a temple or ruins on the island you can point me to?”

The Dunmer looked her up and down, “Are you a scholar? From the College in Winterhold.”

Konahrik was securely in her pack, so right now she was just ‘the Archmage.’

“Yes, I’m the Archmage, actually. I’m here on an expedition of sorts. I came across the name and wanted to look deeper.”

Not exactly a lie, but not the truth either.

“Well, if you’re the Archmage, maybe you can help with this crisis we’ve got on our hands.”

Her brows knitted together. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s an old Skaal stone on the edge of town, it’s possessed the minds of most of the town. They work tirelessly on building a structure around it. We’ve tried everything to get them to stop but they just,” he seemed at a loss for words. “They keep chanting and working. The Telvanni wizard came through town yesterday, he’s been trying to figure out what is wrong as well.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Neloth was as she expected a Telvanni wizard to be like. While they both shared a fascination what was going on, he was content to let the townspeople continue their mindless work rather than take a few notes, and then try to put an end to it.

The architecture was strange, unlike any she had really seen before. Cara took out her field journal and sketched the stone and the new structures being built around it. The rhythmic tapping of the hammer and chisels soon turned to buzzing as a voice filled her head.

_Here in his shrine_

_That they have forgotten_

_Here do we toil_

_That we might remember_

_By night we reclaim_

_What by day was stolen_

_Far from ourselves_

_He grows ever near to us_

_Our eyes once were blinded_

_Now through him do we see_

_Our hands once were idle_

_Now through them does he speak_

_And when the world shall listen_

_And when the world shall see_

_And when the world remembers_

_That world shall cease to be_

“Altmer, hey!”

Blinking rapidly, the ringing in her ears stopped, and Neloth was gripping her shoulder and shaking her.

“Ah, you’re back it seems. I thought you had been lost there for a second. That might have been a trifle inconvenient, I suspect. It seems it can exert its will over you, but not completely.”

“Yes, sorry. Thank you, Master Neloth.” She glanced down at her journal, dragonic script etched all over the page. “I think I’m just a little tired from my journey. Good day.”

The dunmer wizard went back to muttering about the state of the townspeople, not saying farewell. Cara began her walk back to the town, her legs unsteady and her mind fuzzy.

That voice was so clear, like he was standing right next to her.

She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t soothing.

_Could that have been Miraak? It had to have been._

And that weakened her theories. The last time a dragon priest had spoken to her, it was Morokei, and his voice has sounded like claws against stone, harsh and guttural.

This voice was neither those things, so an undead priest was less likely then. But to have such absolute control, Cara was a powerful mage, and nothing like that had ever happened before. Her will was absolute.

She didn’t remember her feet carrying her to the Inn, but she found herself in the tavern all the same. After buying a room for the night, and locking herself into the small space, she set her pack down and took out her journal.

The page she had sketched the standing stone was untouched, but the adjacent page was covered in dovahzul.

“ _Het ko ok kogaanu_. Here in his shrine. I wrote that mantra in dovahzul. Why?” she muttered to herself.

While dovahzul was the language of her soul, when idly writing or writing notes for herself, she tended to slip back into her mother language, Aldmeris, not the dragon tongue.

She closed the journal. That was enough of that for now.

Exhaustion crept over her. It wasn’t even past midday, but the week of hardly any sleep and, whatever it was that happened earlier had left her drained.

She pulled off her boots and untangled herself from her outer robes, leaving her in a loose undershirt and wool leggings and socks, she lay on the bed, a snap of her fingers and the small candle flames went out, she quickly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She felt someone watching her.

 _“It takes a strong will to resist me.”_ A voice sounded, coming from any and all directions at once. It was the same voice from before.

Cara looked around her. She couldn’t pinpoint any source.

“I have a stronger will than most seem to think.”

“ _Yuvon fahliil, hi los aan mey wah qahnaar zu_.”

_Golden elf, you are a fool to resist me._

_He did not call me Dovahkiin. He must not know._ Cara gave him no inclination she understood him.

_“You do not understand me, but you will, given time. All will understand.”_

“What is it you want?”

_“What is rightfully mine, what was taken from me.”_

“Solsthiem?”

_“Geh, and something far greater and important to me.”_

“Are you Miraak, or are you just a mage, powerful enough to pretend to be a dragon priest of old?”

The voice was silent for a moment. “ _You think I am not who I am. Kro, hi fen kos du koh wah zu, gein sul. You are more clever than I gave you credit for.”_

“I haven’t gotten to where I am by being foolish.”

_“Perhaps not. My curiosity has been sated. You will await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel.”_

* * *

Cara shot upright, gasping for breath. Cold sweat dotted her brow.

_He is the real Miraak. He has to be._

There was no way that some random, power-hungry mage learned dovahzul so perfectly that his speech would rival that of the dragons. It was one thing to learn the words of power, it was another entirely to learn the entirety of a dead language spoken only by the previously-extinct dragons, the Greybeards (and even then she was certain they did not speak the language close to fluent) and the undead draugr that would Shout and yell at intruders.

The only reason she was as fluent as she was is because of her dragon soul, and how quickly she picked up the words. Seeing or hearing the words once was enough, and she felt like she knew the words her whole life.

If it really is him, then what are the implications of his presence? Two _dovahkiinne_ not only in the same era, but living at the same time, and in close proximity. And not just any two _dovahkiinne_. The First and Last. Cara used to not believe in fate, but after that afternoon at the Western Watchtower, she started to have more faith in it.

Auri-el wouldn’t put the two of them together to destroy each other. Her destiny had been fulfilled, she had defeated Alduin, she had brought the ending of the world to an end.

If Miraak found out she was _Dovahkiin_? Would he welcome her, in their shared comradery? Would he scorn her, if he saw she was an elf, an Altmer? Would he try to kill her for being truly his only rival in power?

Her mind was whirling. This was far too much.

She wanted a drink to help dull her overactive mind.

But she also needed to be sharp, keep her wits about her. Especially if the only thing keeping her from being controlled was her will.

Seeing no other option, as sleep was out of the question, she got herself comfortable on the bed, back straight, legs crossed under her, and took slow, measured breaths.

Focusing on her inner _dovah_ , she reached inside, meditating on her inner self and the Thu’um, as Parthunaax had taught her.

* * *

Cara had no idea how long time had passed from when she fell asleep, when she woke, and when she fell into her meditations. She let herself slip from her tranquility when she heard the innkeep and few others stir, meaning it must be some time in the morning.

Sighing, she moved from her position, her joints stiff after hours of not moving. She redressed, pulled on her boots and grabbed her pack.

Sitting at the bar, she paid for her breakfast and quickly ate it, not realizing how hungry she had been.

“You know, if you’re going past the Bulwark I wouldn’t suggest going by yourself.” A voice said from behind her.

A man dressed in the strange armor made from insect chitin came up from behind her, and sat on the stool next to her.

“And you’re volunteering your time?”

“I’ll sell you my time.” His voice seemed teasing.

Now she knew how others felt when she wore her mask. It was difficult to read a person.

She didn’t bring enough coin to last her this whole trip with the added cost of a sellsword.

“How about we make a deal. You get to keep the loot we find, and if it’s not quite enough, I’ll pay the difference. Sound fair?”

He seemed to think it over for a moment. “Deal.” He held out his hand. “Teldryn Sero.”

She took his hand. “Carawen Direnni.”

* * *

Cara and Teldryn were attacked numerous times by what Captain Veleth called ‘ash spawn’ and Cara promised to help take care of the issue after her she gets to the bottom of this Miraak fellow.

They headed inland, instinct more than anything guiding her in her path.

On a mountain, she spotted what had to be the temple. When her gaze met the ground, however, she felt her breath leave her lungs in a puff of vapor.

“You alright?” her companion asked.

Half hidden in the snow, was a dragon skeleton. When she looked closer, she saw the mountain path was littered with them.

“There’s got to be nearly two dozen dragon skeletons here.”

“And? Isn’t that a good thing?”

She looked at the Dunmer.

“Miraak was a dragon priest. He _served_ the dragons. They were gods to those in the cult. For their remains to be here, after all this time, and not buried or touched, they feared him. The dragons and the other priests. A display like this might have even given Alduin pause. So many of his brothers slaughtered like common animals…” she trailed off.

“You know a lot about this guy then?”

“I’m the leading expert in ancient Nordic culture and the Dragon Cult. That’s the whole reason I’m here.” _Not entirely a lie._

“You’re a scholar? Would have been nice to know.”

“I can hold my own.”

“Oh I’m not doubting that, I saw how well you obliterated those ash spawn back there. But let’s get you up to that temple so I can get paid.”

Cara pulled out her journal and scribbled some notes, mostly about the architecture as they were coming up to the summit.

“This isn’t Nordic architecture. It almost looks Dunmer.”

“That isn’t any Dunmer architecture I’ve seen.”

“But the Dunmer take a lot of roots in Daedric architecture, yes? At least for some temples?”

“I can see where you're going with it. Its got some resemblance.”

A voice could be heard from the temple as they drew nearer.

"You must fight against what is controlling you! We must leave this place! Ysra, can you hear me? You must leave this place!"

Lightning danced from Cara’s fingertips, just in case.

As they came to the last step, the temple then descended again, a large standing stone in the center, and bundled-up Nords working on restoring the ruins.

A blond, heavily-armored Nord woman spotted them, and drew her sword.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m Carawen, this is my companion, Teldryn. I’m here looking into what’s going on, as well as research.”

“I am Frea of the Skaal. I’m trying to save my people or avenge them.”

“The mind control, as far as I and Master Neloth has observed, doesn’t seem to be permanent, but we haven’t found a way to break the thrall either.”

“Hey boss!” Teldryn shouted, and threw a fireball at two approaching cultists, dressed as the ones that attacked her in Whiterun, from sunken stairs that led further into the ruin.

The smell of ash and ozone filled the air as Cara unleashed a lightning storm at the two cultists, lightning arcing off them.

The fight was over in seconds, between Frea and Teldryn’s blades, coupled with Cara’s magic.

“I’m going down there, if you want to come. You might get some answers.” Cara offered.

“Aye, I will.”

* * *

“This is, all so _wrong_.”

The throne room was clear of draugr, and now she could fully grasp the full dragon skeleton hanging above her, the bones adorning the throne.

“He was an evil man.” Frea muttered.

“He rebelled against his masters, the dragons were cruel to their subjects, it makes sense his brutality would be similar. He is Dragonborn, after all. But this is so much worse than the display outside. This wasn’t for the dragons to see. This was for the others, the other priests and his subjects to see.”

As they progressed, the architecture went from Nordic to something twisted.

Cara put her hand on a pillar carving.

“This is daedric. It has to be. There’s traces of the script in these carvings.”

“What prince is it for? Teldryn asked.

She looked closer, at another wall carving. Her breath caught in her throat. “Hermaeus Mora.”

“Herma Mora is the sworn enemy of the Skaal. Miraak will be punished for his actions if he is in league with that foul daedra.”

“Mora is tricky. He’s not one to be trifled with, either. We need to be careful.”

* * *

“It looks like a dead end.” Teldryn remarked.

“I do not like this book. It feels evil.” Frea said, circling the pedestal.

“Neither do I, but what choice do we have? It feels Daedric, I’m sure it has to do with Mora.”

Cara left out the part where the magical energy coming off the book was the same as the small deep wretched abyss that had contacted her and tried to get to help Septimus several years ago. The thought made her shiver.

“If something happens, please, alert the College. They should know that I’m not coming back.”

“Carawen I don’t think you should touch it.” Frea implored.

The elf looked the Nord woman in the eye. “We need answers. This book should have them.”

She opened the book, and barely got through reading the first few words before inky black tentacles wrapped around her wrists and torso.

She screamed, barely aware how it shook the whole ruin, and fire erupted from her lips, but the book pulled her in, and she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There wasn't a word for shrine, so I made one up:  
> Kogaan- blessing  
> Nus- statue  
> Kogaanu- shrine
> 
> Kro, hi fen kos du koh wah zu, gein sul – Mage, you will be of use to me, one day.
> 
> I also made a spotify playlist for those interested!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3dxXdU3cL39TEtLThPWeEl?si=ZVTLt3c-RgKWbZsbZ20RVQ
> 
> I also live off of comments and kudos! I appreciate every single one :)


	2. Yah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara meets the infamous Miraak, and they strike a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I wasn't expecting so many people to like this so quickly! Y'all really made my morning, let me tell ya. Thank you so much for the kudos! :)
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the last, but I wanted to get it out there and it was just as long as I felt it needed to be.
> 
> Without further ado, hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title translation: Seek

All the air left her lungs, the ground coming to meet her hands and knees with a force that made her wince.

_It was a portal._

Cara sucked in a breath, nearly choking at the thick, humid, and stale air.

Two floating, tentacle creatures spotted her and blasted her before she could even put up a ward. She felt her magic leave her and her sight grew fuzzy.

A humanoid figure noticed her presence, and it barked out a command to the creatures.

Her vision was clearing, and she felt her magic coming back to her. As she tried to stand on wobbly legs, a large male hand grasped her jaw and made her look him in the eyes.

She was greeted with a mask, not unlike the dragon priest masks, only this one look warped, like it had been pulled and reshaped into the rather terrifying façade it had now. The gloves that held her chin were soft, but his fingertips burned almost hot, even through the leather. 

His eyes were shadowed in the mask, Cara only catching the slightest glimpse of blue in the dark.

“ _Dovahkiin.”_

* * *

Miraak was deep in an ancient tome when he heard the commotion behind him. Two Seekers had subdued someone. He wasn’t aware that Mora was bringing another poor soul into Apocrypha. He set the tome down.

It was her, the mage that resisted him.

A few quick strides he crossed his personal study, and kneeled slightly, just enough to get her to look at him.

He was stuck speechless in more ways than one. Before, she was like an apparition, he didn’t get much a look at her when he spoke with her in her dream. Now he saw her true corporeal form.

Her eyes were the most magnificent shade of purple he’d ever seen.

What stuck him more, however, was how her skin seemed to burn under his touch, and how his inner _dovah_ roared at the challenge of another.

There were no female _dov._ And yet, one was before him.

“ _Dovahkiin.”_

* * *

Cara rose off her knees to her feet, Miraak following her, his hand never leaving her jaw.

Divines above, he was _tall_.

Her magic had quickly returned to her, lightning just barely sparking on the ends of her fingertips, and fire on the tip of her tongue.

“ _Zu’u_.”

“ _Hi mindoraan fin dovahzu_ _l.”_

“I’d make a poor _dovah_ if I couldn’t.”

He hummed in agreement. “What is your name, _laat Dovahkiin_.”

“Carawen.”

“And you know who I am?”

She nodded, and he stepped away, turning back to his desk.

“You’re Miraak, the first Dragonborn, First Mage of the Dragon Cult, and traitor.”

He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Mora struck my name from anything written about me, and the cult did the rest what Mora could not. How do you know so much?”

“Bronjunaar. As far as I can tell, it used to house the records of all Dragon Priests. The Hall of Stories recorded all of the First Mages. There was one scratched out, ‘traitor’ written across his likeness. I couldn’t find any record of him, and when you sent those assassins after me, I asked Odahviing. He filled in the missing pieces of history.”

“I did not send assassins after you. I did not know of your existence until a few moments ago.”

Confusion washed over her face. “There’s cultists in your temple, I found a note that said ‘you’d be pleased at my death'.”

“I wouldn’t be pleased. I do not want to see you die, but,”

He sighed and turned to face her fully, his hand coming to rest on the sword at his side. Cara followed the movement, sparks coming off of her fingertips.

He took a step towards her.

“I need your power to return to Tamriel.”

As he drew is sword, Cara took a step backwards, her hands up in a placating gesture.

“Wait! Just a moment, please.”

He lowered the blade.

“I know you want your freedom, I would too after being stuck here for four thousand years. Let me help.”

“You will.” He advanced again, Cara took another step back.

“Can I get back through the book?”

“Yes but that matters little-“

“But you can’t, yes?”

“…No. I cannot.”

“Then let me go back, and I’ll search for a way to free you.”

“What makes you think I trust you enough to not leave me here?”

“Because you have no reason not to trust me.”

He paused.

“And if you can’t find a way?”

Determination sparked in her eyes. “I’ll find a way. I’m nothing if not persistent.”

Another pause, and he sheathed his blade. “I’ve taken the minds of the people of Solsthiem. Why would you want to help me?” He began to circle her, though she made sure he was in her line of sight.

Cara hesitated. “Because you’re the only being alive that knows what it’s like.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He approached her again, both hands coming to cup her face. Cara rested her hands on his chest, a spell on her fingertips ready to blast him back should attack her.

He stared at her for a moment, before backing away suddenly, like she had burned him.

“ _Bo_ , and do not fail me.” He said as he turned.

“One thing, I’ll help you, if you free the minds of those you’ve taken on Solsthiem.”

She could see his shoulders tense. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Cara retrieved the Black Book, took a deep, measured breath, and opened it. This time, she was as ready as she could be when she was dragged back through the portal.

* * *

She was greeted with a face full of snow upon her return.

Cara groaned, and rolled over. Frea came into her field of vision, helping her sit up.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

“Did you find him? Or any answers?”

“Your friends should be free of the stones. Everyone should be.”

“Did you defeat him?”

Cara shook her head. “He’s no threat to you.”

“I don’t understand, he’s an ally to Herma Mora, he’s evil-“

“He’s imprisoned. He only wanted to escape, ruling Solsthiem was just an afterthought.”

Frea looked at her with disbelieving eyes.

“Frea, trust me. He’s not a problem for the Skaal anymore.”

The Nord stood. “Your friend is here. You both should leave. Now.”

Frea stomped off as Cara stood, Teldryn coming to her side. “Seems you’ve pissed off the only people willing to house us on this side of the island. He handed her her pack, which she took and slung over her shoulder.

“We best get back to Raven Rock soon then.”

* * *

It was well past dark when they finally trudged past the Bulwark and into Raven Rock. Teldryn and Cara were exhausted, the journey long and the barrage of ash spawn only further weakening them. Dragging their feet, they made down the stairs of The Retching Netch. Cara gave Geldis coin for a room, said good night to Teldryn, who was halfway in the doorway to his own room.

Closing and locking the door, she dropped her pack at the foot of her bed, toed off her boots, and slipped out of her robes, ash falling everywhere. She groaned, and took her long, inky black hair out of the braid she had it in, running her fingers though it and shaking it out, more ash falling to the ground.

While she longed for a hot bath, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to have one until she returned to Winterhold, more than likely.

All but collapsing into the bed, she fell asleep quickly, the loud noises from the more full tavern not bothering her.

* * *

Miraak found himself in a room. Now that he knew who she was, he could find her easily and manifest an ethereal form to Tamriel. He wanted to speak with her, but she hadn’t been alone since she went back to Solstheim.

He was about to speak, but found her sleeping instead. For a moment, he almost woke her, but decided against it. For now, he was content with observing her.

While he knew in theory what the Altmer looked like, as they had been described in books, but he had never really seen one before. Her skin was light, with a warm golden hue. Her dark hair, now unbound from their first meeting, was nearly to her waist, and black as pitch. Her pointed ears, to his surprise, had an assortment of small gold jewelry adoring them. He hadn’t noticed that before.

He found himself pondering the situation he found himself in. Never did he think that he would cross paths with another Dragonborn, much less that that Dragonborn would be a woman. It was unprecedented. It was one reason he was loathe to have to kill her, but his freedom demanded it.

She surprised him, when she said she’d help him. While he was threatening her, he saw no fear in her, felt the pull of her magic, and he was certain ready to unleash her _Thu’um_ on him at any given second.

Her words stuck with him.

_Because you’re the only being alive that knows what it’s like._

She was alone in this world. That one sentence proved that much, and he understood what she’s gone through, what she’s going through.

In that moment, provided she doesn’t go against her word, he promised to not let her be alone again.

He knows all too well what loneliness can do to a person, he’s had four thousand years of just books for company.

Mora only ever called on him when the Daedra was bored. And the torment that the Prince would bring from being bored only further pushed Miraak towards his escape.

Returning from his thoughts, he left her, letting her rest so she could help him.

Perhaps he was being foolish, trusting her as he was, but then again, perhaps she would be his salvation.

Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zu'u - I am  
> Hi mindoraan fin dovahzul. - You understand the dragon tongue.  
> Laat - last  
> Bo - go


	3. Staadnau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months of research to find a way to get Miraak out of Apocrypha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm back with a longer chapter! I'm moving things right along, but I have no idea how long this fic will be. Whoops. Also this got longer than I thought it would but oh well. I usually try to be consistent with chapter lengths but we're trying something different. 
> 
> Chapter title translation: Unbound

Cara rose late, well, later than usual for her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, sighing.

“It’s about time you woke.”

Cara jumped, arcs of lighting coming off her fingertips, seeking the owner of the voice.

Cara swore in Aldmeris, taken off guard. She stood, facing the apparition of Miraak. “Don’t do that!”

He seemed amused.

“And it’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Her eyes narrowed. She was fairly sure, at least in his own way, he was laughing.

“What do you need?” the elf asked.

“What do you plan to do?”

“I’m going to speak to Neloth, after I deal with the ash spawn problem.”

“Surely they can be dealt with later, or not by you.”

“They’re a pain to deal with, Miraak. And I had already promised Captain Veleth that I’d look into the problem.”

“And if this ‘Neloth’ can’t help?”

“He’s a master Telvanni wizard, if he can’t help, then I’m certain he knows of someone who can. And if it’s a dead end there then I’ll return to Skyrim, see if anything in the Arcanaeum has any leads, and then if I still come up empty handed, I’ll contact my associates in the Arcane University.”

“And if you still can’t find anything?”

“Then you’re going to have to help me. It’s likely something that has been lost to time. You’re standing in the largest receptacle of knowledge ever amassed. Start looking around in old tomes.”

“I have never come across something here.”

She thought for a moment. “Mora might be interfering too, keeping certain tomes away from you that might have the information you need to escape.”

He hummed in agreement.

“I’ll start with that. If I come up empty handed after what I’m sure will be months of research, then we can look at the next steps. The College and Arcane University aren’t the only institutions of magic in Tamriel. Someone, somewhere will have at least a small lead.”

“I will speak with you after you return from this ‘Neloth’.”

He vanished without so much as a good bye.

“Good morning to you too.” She muttered.

Now fully awake, Cara redressed, and again longed for a bath and a real change of clothes, pulled her boots on, bushed her long hair, and rebraided it.

Teldryn was awake, Cara noticed as she exited her room, her pack on one shoulder.

“Where to today?” the Dunmer asked.

She ordered a bowl of porridge, placing the coins on the table.

“To take care of the ash spawn, then to speak with Neloth.”

“Sounds like a full day then.”

She nodded, quickly eating so they could get going.

Passing the finished bowl over to Geldis, she grabbed her pack and motioned to Teldryn, the two making their way up the stairs back to ground level, and out into the town.

* * *

The ash spawn problem wasn’t as difficult to take care of as Cara thought it would be. Sure, they were fairly annoying, and frankly, terrifying to look at at first, but she’s seen zombies in Ayleid crypts that were harder to look at. The journal of a necromancer she found in the crypts of the fortress gave her pause. While she herself wasn’t opposed to necromancy in certain cases, this was taking it a step too far.

The journal safely in her pack, Cara and Teldryn made their way to the huge mushroom tower on the edge of the coast.

Cara never had the opportunity to travel to the remains of Morrowind after Red Mountain erupted, but she had read tomes about house Telvanni. While she was disgusted with the house’s further use of slavery, they were a fascinating house. She had always wondered what it would be like to grow a mushroom tower, and what it was like inside one. It seemed like she would get to find out today.

As they came up the path, Cara spotted a young mage attempt a spell of some kind. Given the lack of results she assumed it was a summon of some kind.

“I just can’t get it to spawn! Master Neloth’s handwriting is so difficult.” The young Dunmer vented his frustration.

“What are you trying to summon?” Cara asked, approaching the young man.

“It’s an ash guardian. Wait! I think I’ve got it!” Cara and Teldryn both took a step back as a rocky, ashy creature that reminded Cara of a smaller storm atronach grew from the ashy soil.

Then it immediately tried to attack the young Dunmer that summoned it.

Reaching out with both hands, Cara caught the creature, and sent it back to Oblivion, the deep purple of her banishing spell dissipating as the ash resettled itself back on the ground.

“If you’re going to summon creatures, you might want to learn how to banish them.” She told the young man.

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Thank you, but please, don’t tell Master Neloth.”

“I won’t but just remember that next time you summon something you might not be ready for.”

“Of course, thank you. Are you here to see Master Neloth?”

“I am.”

“He should be up in his tower, but if he’s in the middle of an experiment I wouldn’t bother him.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled at her and went back to studying his notes, muttering to himself.

Cara and Teldryn both made their way up to the root to the door that lead into the tower.

“The Telvanni are amazing. Look what they've grown from the ash... have you ever seen anything like it?” the Dunmer said to her.

She opened the door. “I’ve always wanted to see one of these towers. There was a drawing in a tome I read once, ages ago. They’re fascinating.” She said with a grin.

The floating apparatus they had to use to get to the top was beyond fascinating, after she freed Miraak she planned on coming back and asking Neloth about some of the magics the Telvanni used.

“Hello? Master Neloth? It’s the Archmage from outside Raven Rock? We met a few days ago?”

The older Dunmer came out from around a corner, a thick leather bound tome in hand.

“Ah, yes. Did you find out how to break the control?”

“Sort of, I put an end to it at least. But I have a more pressing question to ask.”

“Hm, yes well get on with it.”

“Do you know of some way to free someone from a Plane of Oblivion?”

The wizard stroked his chin and thought for a moment. “How long have they been there? And what Plane?”

Cara glanced back at Teldryn but then decided she didn’t care what the Dunmer thought of her. She made a promise.

“Apocrypha, and for about four thousand years.”

Neloth’s eyebrows rose considerably. “If they had just been stuck there I would say it might be rather simple, for someone such as myself, but four thousand years? Are you sure they’re even still sane? Or not tainted by the Plane in any way?”

“I’m certain his wits are about him. And he seemed alright. He’s been trying to find a way out since he’s been stuck there really. I think Mora is hiding all information he could use from him.”

The wizard narrowed his eyes at the Altmer. “This isn’t that fellow you were looking for in Raven Rock earlier, is it?”

She sighed. “It is.”

“Well, frankly I think it would be quiet impossible to do so, but I’ll see if I can come up with anything. I’ll also send for information from the others, see if they have any idea as well. If you manage to pull it off, then perhaps I misjudged you.”

“Thank you, Master Neloth. I’ll be sure to keep in touch about my findings.”

“Yes, yes,” the Dunmer waved her off. “Now I have important research to get back to. Off with you now. I’ll have no more distractions.”

Cara turned and rolled her eyes.

While she was no closer to finding a way to free Miraak, she at least would have some of the resources of the great Telvanni house working in her favor.

“So you’re trying to free that guy then? The one that tried to kill you?” Teldryn asked, as they stepped back into the Ashland.

She took a deep breath. “It’s not as simple as that. He didn’t send those assassins after me, nor did he want to kill me. He just wants out of Apocrypha. And after being there myself, I can see why. I told him I’d help him, so I’m going to do just that.”

“Why? What’s it to you?”

Cara sighed. “Because he’s like me.” She looked Teldryn in the eye, well, as well as she could with those goggles on. “He’s like me and he’s the only one I’m ever going to even get to talk to, much less try and help. He needs my help, and frankly, that’s enough for me. I would like to think that if the situation was reversed, someone would try and help me as well.”

“What do you mean, he’s like you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She paused, a lie on her lips.

“It’s complicated. And telling you the truth I’m afraid might complicate things a bit more.”

The Dunmer held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Fair enough. I thought I’d ask at least.”

She offered him a small smile. “It’s alright. No harm in asking questions.”

They were just outside the boundary of Tel Mithryn.

“So boss, where to now?”

“I’m returning to Skyrim, to the College. You’ve been paid, and if you want to stay here, you’re more than welcome to. This is your home, and Skyrim isn’t very kind to mer at the moment.”

“If you’d be willing to have me follow you off this rock, I’ll come with. I’ve been here far too long.”

“You’re a rather accomplished combat mage, if you want to come stay at the College for a time, we could use a talented and battle-tested mage like you. It’s more an institution for learning, but book smarts doesn’t keep my Apprentices safe.”

“Yeah, that sounds a bit like fun actually.”

She smiled. “Well then, off to Skyrim.”

* * *

The gates clanging behind her and Teldryn, Cara breathed a sigh of relief.

She was home, finally. Cara had been on edge the whole journey home. Teldryn had commented on it a few times, but she waved him off, calling it sea nerves or whathaveyou. She was over-analyzing. As always.

Miraak had come a few handful of times to speak with her, and just when she thought she had a read on him and his emotions, he would be different the next time they spoke. He would be irritated or aloof or almost, dare she say, tender.

Never could Cara imagine what the man had gone through, so mood swings were probably the least of his problems.

She also wondered if this was really the right decision. She would never fault him in seeking freedom, had she not also sacrificed everything so she could live the life she wanted?

What if he wanted out, for himself but also to try and be a tyrant?

He would have a very rude awakening if that was the case. Not only was Skyrim torn, but some ages-old _mage_ coming out of nowhere and demanding to rule? Ulfric would see that as a challenge and honestly? She’d let Miraak deal with him. She detested the man.

When she did get him out, he would likely take weeks if not months to readjust to life. Time seemed to pass differently in Apocrypha, and he didn’t seem to ever sleep.

Well, if it backfires on her terribly, Cara decided she’d do what had quickly become the new normal in her life: ending the threat with a blast of well-aimed lightning and her Thu’um.

Cara introduced Teldryn to Toldir, and ask that he see the Dunmer to his new quarters, for as long as he wished to stay at the College.

She bid them farewell, desperately wanting a bath and a clean, fresh set of robes.

While it was only midafternoon, the Altmer was exhausted. She caught one of the few servants that worked in the College and asked her to draw her a bath.

Trudging up the stairs to her quarters, she unlocked the heavy wooden door, took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

She was home.

* * *

It had been a few weeks of near tireless research, and Miraak had yet to contact her.

She knew he wasn’t restricted to Solsthiem, as he had spoken with her not long after they landed in Windhelm. She hoped that Mora hadn’t found out about their little scheme.

Cara had nearly every book in the Arcaneaum on Oblivion, summoning, and portals. Many of the tomes were considered outdated, since stable portals and the like were now near-impossible to create since the Dragonfires were permanently lit.

It was late, Cara was sure it was some time in the early morning. She was struggling keeping her eyes open, but she was close to finishing this chapter on Oblivion portal theories.

“You should get some rest, _mal kest_.”

She turned her heavy eyes towards his spectral figure. “I’m almost done with this. Then I’ll go to bed.”

He studied her for a moment. “You look terrible.”

She took her eyes from the pages again. “How lovely to see you too.” She went back to reading.

Miraak regarded her quarters for a few moments. They were decent, he surmised. A small alchemy garden, not like he was any good at it, spacious room to work, many shelves for tomes.

“Don’t go rifling through my personal things.” Cara called from across the room.

He joined her back by her desk, glancing down at her scrawled notes. He gestured to her notes.

“What is this?”

She glanced up, then went back to the tome. “Aldmeris. It’s my first language. I tend to write in it.”

“How many languages do you know?”

Sighing, she placed the thick leather tome on the desk. “I can speak three, read and write four.”

He waited for her to elaborate.

“Aldmeris, Common, and Dovahzul, and then those three and Ayleid. We only know a little of what it sounds like, so I can’t really speak it. It probably sounds a bit like Aldmeris, as they’re all from the same root language, but I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Interesting.”

“Did you just come to bother me? I am in the middle of trying to help you, you know.”

His shoulders stiffened.

Cara sighed again. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept much in weeks. I’ve been pouring over tome after tome.”

“You will be of no use to me if you kill yourself from exhaustion.”

“Your concern for my well being is overwhelming.” She deadpanned.

“Have you made any progress?”

Cara shook her head. “I sent a letter to a colleague of mine, I left bundles of rubbings and untranslated texts from Ayleid ruins I gathered over the course of a decade. I found the ruin of what looked like some type of College or University, there was a lot of information there I hadn’t gotten around to yet. I asked him to send copies of them to me to be translated, hopefully there’s something in one of those. The Ayleids were tricky with daedra, I’m sure there’s been some that have gotten stuck on the wrong end of a portal before and they had to get them out.”

He nodded, crossing his arms.

“Don’t bother with these tomes, they will tell you nothing I don’t already know.”

She placed her head on the desk, on top of the book.

“You couldn’t have told me that before?” her voice was slightly muffled.

“Wait for your notes. Get some rest, _mal kest_.”

She rose her head to look at him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He hummed in agreement.

“What are you going to do when you get free?”

He thought for a moment.

“I don’t think I need to ask for you not to lie to me.” she added.

Though she could not see his eyes, his gaze burned a hole through her.

“I am not sure. Much of the world has changed. I will need to find my place in it, as you have, I suspect.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome here. For as long as you would like.”

“I-“ he stopped for a moment. “Goodbye, _mal kest._ ”

And he vanished.

* * *

Nearly a month later, and her requested materials were finally delivered to the College.

Though Miraak told her to just wait for her documents, she had not been idle the last few weeks, instead doing more research, working tirelessly at tomes.

She hauled the wooden crate up to her study, and began to sort through the scrolls from what ruin they were from.

She felt a presence from behind her.

“I’m beginning to think you just spy on me.”

The dragon priest came from around behind her, and crouched at her side.

“How long will it take to translate all of this?”

She glanced up at him. She still couldn’t believe she only came up to his shoulder.

“By myself? Probably a few months.”

“Get some of your Apprentices to assist you.”

“And you would put your trust, your freedom, in some Apprentices that have never seen Ayleid script in their lives?”

“You, may have a point.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what I thought. This can be difficult to translate if not well practiced, especially if looking for a, what I’m assuming will be, rather complex spell.”

“If I could assist you, I would.”

She offered him a small smile. “I know you would and thank you for being patient. I’m sure it’s not easy.”

“It’s been thousands of years. A few months will not kill me.”

Purple eyes sought his, though hidden by his mask. “But it could take no time at all if Mora catches on to what we’re doing. I’m safe here, the worst that could hurt me is summoned Daedra or cultists. You have no protection against the full wrath of a Prince.”

Miraak stood very still. Cara was still having a tough time reading his body language and emotions from behind that mask of his.

“Your concern is touching, _mal kest_.” His tone was almost mocking. He stood and put some space between them.

“Well, pardon me for giving a damn.” She muttered to herself.

Silence filled the room, except for the soft sounds of paper being shuffled around.

Finally, Cara broke the silence.

“If I make any progress, how can I contact you?”

“I’ll know if you do.”

“So you _are_ spying on me.”

“No, I just check in more often than we have conversations.”

She stood, a few scrolls in her hand, and crossed her arms.

“Sure.” It was clear she didn’t believe him.

A moment of silence passed, Cara still sorting.

“I must go.”

She looked up at him. “Be safe.”

He vanished once again. 

* * *

Miraak was troubled.

He of course knew she was right, if Mora did catch wind of his little plot, there was little he could do to defend himself.

He was confident, even a little arrogant, but not so blinded by hubris that he could defeat a Daedric prince in his own Plane.

What troubled him the most, however, was his growing affection to _her_.

Perhaps it was because she’s really the first person he’s had a conversation with in millennia.

Maybe it’s because he actually enjoys her company.

Though, he doubted that. She’s rather actually a pain in the ass.

Stubborn as a _dovah_ , too smart for her own good, too helpful, too _kind_.

She had offered him a home at her College, and by doing that, offered her companionship as well.

He didn’t have friends. Not even before. Not really.

Vahlok was more his brother, and even then, in the end, his chosen brother had almost killed him.

Trust was not an easy thing for him.

In the Cult, someone always wanted something from his positions of power. But, _ok kest_ seemed so genuine. While at first he was certain that she only wanted to help him to save her own life, but there was nothing stopping her from leaving and just leaving him to rot in Apocrypha.

And she was exhausting herself trying to find a solution.

There was more than one late night he found himself in her quarters, and she was passed out asleep on a tome.

Her question had also troubled him, those weeks ago, about what he would do after he got his freedom.

Before, he would just be content in ruling Solstheim, as he had before. Now, that was no longer an option. He found himself caring about her opinion of him, that and he knew if he did make an attempt, he would have to deal with her. Which would lead to his death or hers.

And he really did not want to harm her, especially now after his continued conversations with her.

It was _never_ a situation he ever thought he would find himself in.

Everything was different now, and he had a feeling it was going to continue to change drastically.

* * *

It was the wee hours of the morning, but Cara felt as if she was on to something. She told Miraak as much hours ago when he had visited, and subsequently, he stayed. He was assisting as best he could without touching anything, his extensive knowledge of magic helping fill in the gaps.

“That’s, that’s it. I think I’ve got something!” Cara exclaimed, excitement written across her features.

“What is it?”

“It’s a spell, it requires two people, but it’s not so much a portal as it does just, pull us across the Planes until we’re at an anchor point. And an anchor point can be anything, so, I’ll use, hm.”

She quickly got up from her desk, and disappeared behind the privacy wall, coming back with a silver necklace.

“I can use this as an anchor point, place it on the floor, and then use it to pull both of us back to it from Apocrypha."

“And you’re sure it will work?”

“The other bits I’ve translated said they used this for people that would get lost. They would enchant an anchor before leaving on a longer excursion to a Plane. Provided they had enough magicka, or a Welkynd stone, they could find their way back no matter what or how long they had been there. This is our best, and probably only hope.”

He nodded. “As eager as I am, we can do this after you rest, possibly even several days.”

“But-“

“ _Niid_. Rest. I will still be in Apocrypha when you wake. Come to me when you are at full power. There can be no mistakes. We will likely have but one chance at this.”

Exhaustion washed over her features. “Alright, you win. To be safe we should probably try this late tomorrow afternoon, so I can get plenty of rest before.”

“ _Pruzah._ Goodnight, _mal kest._ I will see you tomorrow.”

She smiled a tired smile. “Goodnight Miraak.”

* * *

It was just after Midday, and Cara steeled herself. Now was the time.

The anchor point was made, and situated in the middle of the floor of her chambers.

Steeling herself for the unpleasant journey that was about to happen, she took a breath, then opened the Black Book.

On the other side of the portal, Cara fell on her knees, hard. She grunted, picking her head up, only to be surprised when a gloved hand was outstretched to her. She took it, her skin warming at Miraak’s touch. It was an odd sensation she couldn’t quite figure out. There would be time to ask about it later.

“Ready?” She asked him.

It seemed like he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, when he helped her up, he ended up pulling her into his personal space, the two of them just inches apart. 

“I am.”

She took his hand. “You saw what the necklace looked like, it’s in the middle of the floor of my chambers. Imagine it there, and pull towards it with me.”

A bright blue light manifested in her palm, Miraak copying her movements.

“That’s it. Now we just need to-“

They were pulled apart, Cara loosing her grip on his hand.

“Now, now. Did you really think I wouldn’t know what you have been planning for months?” a lazy voice drawled.

Miraak reached for his sword, when a massive inky black tentacle ran him through, straight through his chest.

Eyes wide with terror, Cara felt the blood drain from her face and all the air leave her lungs, the only sounds she could hear was Miraak struggling to scream, to even breathe.

On instinct, she bolted to him, lightning arching off of her in waves her eyes alight with fury and pain. She hurled a bolt of lightning at the tentacle, but it absorbed it. A bound sword spell on her fingertips, she nearly reached him, just a hair’s breath away-

When her air was suddenly cut off and she was hoisted in the air.

She clawed at the tentacle squeezing around her neck, but it was too much.

A mass of eyes and tentacles appeared before the both of them, the only solace she had was that she could still hear Miraak struggling to breathe, which meant he was still alive. 

“You don’t actually think you could escape me, could you Miraak? And you, Carawen. You already tried to deny me once, you shouldn’t have done that. You would have made a lovely little champion. Now look at you.”

Her violet eyes glared at the monster, the small storm brewing around her only growing with intensity through her sheer willpower alone.

She had to think of something quickly.

* * *

He had endured pain. But never this.

He was choking on his own blood, his chest ripped open.

_Daar los kolos Zu oblaan._

His vision was failing him, his entire body was failing him. He wouldn’t last much longer, but Mora made sure his last moments would be in agony.

It would take him less time to bleed out than it would be for her to suffocate.

Perhaps his soul would fuel her enough to be able to escape.

That would be his only dying regret.

That she would die in here with him, helping him.

His vision darkened, he felt something grab his hand, then he heard it, her Thu’um.

_Nahl Dal Vus!_

He felt as if he was floating, and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mal kest- little tempest  
> ok- his  
> Niid- no  
> Pruzah- good  
> Daar los kolos Zu oblaan- This is where I die.  
> Nahl Dal Vus- Living Return Nirn, the shout Tsun uses to send the LDB back to Nirn.  
> Also I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's liked this so far!! And a huge special shout out to aureliu_s for literally being the coolest person and letting me scream to them about these two idiots. (Go check out their fics they are amazing and deserve so much love)
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter out in a day or two, I have no idea how long it will be so I can't say how long it will take.


	4. Ahraanne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was certain he was dead. How could have he survived that wound?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Back at it again. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title translation: Wounds

So this is what dying felt like.

He was, _warm_. It was odd.

Everything throbbed and ached, his head and chest most of all. His limbs were heavy, he willed his fingertips to move, and he felt them twitch ever so much.

He didn’t think being dead would be like this.

Slowly, the white noise that filled his head receded.

“He’s improving, he might even regain consciousness soon. It’s up to him when he wakes up.”

“And what of our friend? How well does she fair?”

“No change from when you left to update the Jarl on her condition.”

“I see, her health is very grave. But Cara is strong, she’ll pull through.”

Miraak forced his eyes open.

 _Ok kest_ was in a grave condition?

A pained grunt escaped his lips, alerting the two priestesses that were talking to his state. He forced an arm under him, and tried to sit up, pain arching through his body, most intently in the center of his chest.

Hands alight with golden light gently pushed him by his shoulders to lie back down.

“You need to stay still. Your body is still too weak.”

“ _Dii kest, kolos los rek-_ “

“Cara is there,” the woman gestured to a cot just a few feet from him. She moved, so he could see her face. “She’s near death, but improving.”

His body went completely still, the air leaving his lungs.

She looked like a corpse.

Her golden-tanned skin was pale and sickly, her eyes shut, sunken into her face, her high cheekbones poking out far farther than they should be, the skin wrapped too tight around them, the hollows of her cheeks sunken. Once rich black hair that he imagined felt like silk, looked as dry and brittle as straw. Deep purple bruises covered her neck, leaving a mark where Mora had nearly strangled the life out of her. 

The priestess shook her head. “She healed you before we could. Cara used blood magic when she ran out of willpower. She very nearly traded her life for yours. You owe her a great debt.” She paused a moment before adding, “There’s not much we can do to help her. We can repair the damage to her neck, the rest will have to come from her, I’m afraid.”

At his silence, she added, “She’ll pull through, Cara is strong.”

He just stared at the elf, willing her to open her eyes. To show him some sign of life.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”

He forced himself to look away, and at the priestess.

“Miraak.”

* * *

It was, by his estimation, four days before they let him so much as sit up.

He had no idea where he was, either. Or how they even got out of Apocrypha. He only knew that the priestess that tended to him and _ok kest_ was the head priestess, named Danica, as he had overheard. And this was a temple to Kyne.

He was shirtless, aside from the bandages that covered most of his torso, and maskless. He also had a rather large circular-shaped scar in the middle of his chest now, and he assumed there was a matching one on his back.

 _Ok kest_ was looking better as the days passed, but she still did not wake or stir. With her so close, he sent tendrils of his magic to her, in an effort to help her recover faster, but seemed as if it did nothing.

Several more days passed, and they finally let him walk around. He was weak still, but getting stronger with each passing day. They let him sit in a chair next to her, and let him read several books they had on hand. He had read them before, but it had been a while. Not like he was paying attention to the words on the pages anyway.

Nearing the eleventh day by his estimation since he woke, _ok_ _kest_ woke.

He was reading a tome, not paying attention to it, when he saw movement from above the top of the book.

She shifted her head, and her eyes fluttered open with a small groan.

 _“Mal kest.”_ He breathed, closing the book and reaching her side in seconds.

He took her hand, a delicate thing, between his own. She turned her head to look at him, his jaw clenching.

Those utterly vibrant eyes that rendered him speechless the first time he saw them, looked nearly devoid of life and color.

While she had started to look much better than the day he first woke, she still looked as if a stiff wind could blow her over. She was a far cry from the fierce and stubborn woman he had come to know.

She gently pulled on the hand he was holding, which she then used to gently cup his jaw.

“Miraak. You’re alive. I did it.” her voice was weak, soft, and yet relieved.

* * *

Cara was knew she wasn’t dead, but right now she wished she was.

 _Everything_ hurt.

She groaned and opened her eyes with some effort.

A voice spoke.

_“Mal kest.”_

Someone gently grabbed her hand.

 _Miraak_.

_He was alive._

She pulled her hand from his, cupping his jaw.

Cara had wondered what he looked like under his mask, and if she was honest with herself, he isn’t what she thought he’d look like.

He had a strong jaw, handsome features. A long scar that started at his temple, nearly hitting his eye and ended at just above the jaw marred the left side of his face along with a small scar on his chin. His long hair was a pale blond, nearly white, pulled back out of his face.

She met his eyes.

The whites were black, nearly taking over the iris- which were a stormy blue, what little color did come through.

“Miraak. You’re alive. I did it.” her voice was weak, her throat try from unuse.

“I don’t know how, but you did.”

She made a movement to try and sit up, when she spotted Danica rush over to her side.

“Cara, thank Kynareth you’re awake.”

The elf gave a small, tired smile. “Hello Danica.” Confusion flitted across her features. “How in Oblivion did we get to Whiterun?”

“You don’t remember?”

* * *

_She wasn’t going to die here, nor was she going to become a Prince’s plaything._

_Pure fury was coursing through her veins._

_Apparently, it became too much for the tentacle holding her, as it dropped her like it had been burned._

_Her lungs were on fire, her throat raw, but she pushed through it, and scrambled to her feet, bounding the few steps away to grab Miraak, and she Shouted._

Nahl Dal Vus!

_She had no idea if it would work, but instinct guided her. If it worked for Tsun, why wouldn’t it work for her?_

_Her head ached, but she felt as she did when she was sent back to Tamriel, to the Throat of the World._

_Upon landing, she stumbled, not registering where she was but her immediate attention was on Miraak, and the giant hole through his chest._

_She took a deep breath, or tried to as coughs racked her system, but she forced them down. A ring of light shone on the ground around them._

_“You’re not dying on me. I’m not going to let you.” Tears were threatening to fall._

_She couldn’t see his face, but the very small rise and fall of his chest meant he was still alive, even if unconscious. Bright, golden light poured from her hands over him, mending his wound._

_Hours seemed to tick by, her magic slowly failing her. It wasn’t enough. He would die if she didn’t keep going. Focusing her resolve, she shifted the spell to one hand, red light forming in her other. She released the spell, her head immediately feeling as if it was going to burst._

_Her healing spell grew more vibrant, but her vision was fading._

_“Just, a little more.” She ground out though clenched teeth._

_She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she had reached her limit, any more and she would likely die._

_But it still wasn’t enough._

_Her ears started to ring, and she just barely heard yelling to her left._

_White spots clouded her vision, she poured the last of what she had into her healing spell, before everything went black._

* * *

“Some guards stationed at the Western Watchtower saw all the lights, they found the both of you near death, and brought you here.”

“Why Whiterun?” Cara muttered.

“What do you mean?” Miraak asked her, his hand had returned to hers, and he gave her a bit of his magic, in the hopes it would help strengthen her.

“When Tsun used that Shout, when I was in Sovngarde, it sent me back to the Throat of the World.”

Miraak’s strange eyes widened. “Why were you in Sovngarde?”

“To slay the World-Eater.”

His scared eyebrow raised. “Impressive.”

Danica spoke “You know she’s the Dragonborn right?”

“ _Geh,_ of course I know she is _Dovahkiin_.”

“Danica, you haven’t been spreading that around, have you?” Cara asked the priestess.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t think-“

Cara placed a hand on the other woman’s arm. “It’s alright. I know you meant no harm, besides, who would believe you anyway?” the elf let out a small, derisive chuckle.

“What Shout did you use, _mal kest_?”

“As far as I know, it doesn’t have a name. I just know the words and studied them like I do with all the Shouts. _Nahl Dal Vus.”_

“Living Return Nirn. It is not one I know.”

“I don’t think _I’m_ supposed to know it, yet, it saved us.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Danica interjected, “What happened to you two? He came in here with a half-healed hole in his chest, and you came in here near death from blood magic, bruises on your neck.”

Miraak’s jaw clenched as he rubbed at the angry red scar on his chest through his tunic.

“It’s a bit of a long story, Danica, and not one I wish to tell.”

The Priestess nodded, understanding. “The Jarl will want to know how you are doing. I’ll have one of the others send a note up to Dragonsreach.”

“I’d like to go up there, myself. If I can.”

“Cara I don’t think that’s a good idea. You just woke up.”

She waved her off.

“I need to walk. I’ll be fine.”

Both Miraak and Danica helped her sit at the side of the bed.

Cara stood, with some effort. When she was sure of her balance, she took a small experimental step forward, but her knee gave out.

Miraak was there, one large arm coming around her waist to support her.

“ _Zu lost hi._ ”

“I can do it I just need to-“ A small blue-green light appeared in her hand, then suddenly a staff, which she then leaned on for support.

The dragon priest recognized it. “Is that-“

“The Staff of Magnus, yes.” Cara took a few experimental steps, and with the aid of the staff, she could walk, though it was more a hobble.

She noticed she wasn’t in her robes, just her undershirt and leggings.

“Danica? Where are our things?”

“They’re safely in a chest in my quarters, though” She looked to Miraak. “Your robes can likely not be saved.”

He had figured as much.

“May we have them please? We won’t take up anymore bed space for those who need it.”

“Nonsense. You needed it more than most, still do, as far as I’m concerned.”

The priestess left them, as Cara sat back down on the cot.

“Are you okay?” She asked Miraak.

“I am as well as can be expected.”

“I was so sure you were going to die on me. I didn’t think that Mora-“

“ _Niid_. We did what we could. You did what you could. I should have known better.”

Cara looked down at her socked feet.

“There’s no way we could have anticipated _that_.”

Danica returned and handed them each their own possessions.

Cara assumed that they had found Miraak a new shirt, and judging by how tight across his shoulders it was, it was a short notice find.

He was a tall man, and there were a few Altmer she had seen in her life that was his height, she had never seen a man so _large_. His shoulders were broad, so broad she suspected he could completely block the average doorway with ease.

She observed him as she was wrapping herself up in her robes once more, how he hesitated when presented with his mask.

“You don’t have to wear it, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.”

He was silent.

The dragon priest gripped the mask, but he did not place it on his face.

In a few moments, they were as ready as they were going to be to make the journey up to Dragonsreach.

Cara hobbled over to Danica. “Thank you so much, both you and the other priestesses.”

The Nord offered her a smile. “Of course. You’ve done much for all of us. We’re all just relieved you’re alright.”

Cara gave the other woman a tight hug. “Oh, and before I forget,” Danica turned to Miraak. “Your eyes, we tried to heal them while you were asleep, but you need to be cleansed, should you want them back to normal. Go to Solitude and speak with the High Priest. He should be able to help you.”

Miraak stared at her, his jaw slightly clenched.

“Thank you Danica. Again.”

“Just, don’t make it a habit.” The Nord smiled, and waved at them as they slowly made their way to Dragonsreach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dii kest, kolos los rek- my tempest, where is she-  
> Zu lost hi- I have you.
> 
> Come checkout my tumblr and send me dumb prompts and requests for these two! Or just to say hi! https://elventhief.tumblr.com/
> 
> Kudos and comments are so appreciated, and thank you to everyone that's supported me so far! Y'all are the best!!


	5. Hofkahsejun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara reunites with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This one was kinda hard to write, for the first half anyway. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but oh well. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Chapter title translation: Dragonsreach (at least that's what the dragons call it)

Cara was more than a little relieved when they finally made it to the top of the hill Dragonsreach was perched on.

The guards at the great doors into the keep nodded in greeting to her, and held open one of the heavy wooden doors, closing it behind her.

The fire in the great hall roared, warding off the midsummer chill outside.

Which reminded Cara of their lack of cloaks. And supplies. And coin to get supplies.

As they reached the top of the stairs, past the fire, Cara saw her friend and smiled.

The Jarl of the Heartland of Skyrim rose from his modest throne.

“Cara my friend! It’s good to see you up and well!” The Nord gently embraced the elf. “How are you feeling? When Danica told me that they had found you I feared the worst.”

“I feel like I’ve fought a minotaur with my bare hands.” She joked.

Balgruuf gestured for her to sit at one of the long tables that flanked the great hall.

“And who is this? Not one of your Apprentices I’m assuming.”

“Balgruuf, this is Miraak, Miraak, this is Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.”

Miraak inclined his head in greeting, taking a seat next to Cara.

“You both must be hungry, I’ll have Gerda fetch you both something.”

As Miraak and Cara ate, Balgruuf updated her on the goings on in the hold, as it had been nearly a year since she made her way to Whiterun. The food seemed to help tremendously, and Cara could already feel an improvement in her strength. 

“What happened, anyway? You faced the World-Eater, what can harm you?”

Cara leaned back in her chair. She could hear her mother scolding her on her posture in the back of her mind. She glanced at Miraak.

“We were ambushed. And even if I’m the Dragonborn, I’m not invincible. No one is.”

“Words of wisdom, for sure. I’d expect nothing less.” Balgruuf smiled at her. “You are both welcome to stay here for as long as you need to recover, and if you need anything, please, let Proventus know.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for very impromptu trip away from Winterhold, I have no coin to pay you for anything-“

“Nonsense, my friend. You’ve saved this city on more than one occasion, anything you need, you will have.”

Cara placed her hand on the Nord’s, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you, my friend. It means a lot.”

Balgruuf smiled at her. “Of course. Now, I’m sure you and your friend should rest, I’ll have Fianna take you to your room.”

* * *

The room was spacious, and was clearly meant for a visiting dignitary or other person of import; a large bed and fireplace, a spacious desk and a few bookshelves, several armchairs and small end tables that surrounded the hearth, tapestries and rugs on the stone floor.

“If you need anything at all, please let any of us know, m’lady, m’lord.” Fianna told them with a quick curtsey.

“Actually, if I can have a quill, several rolls of parchment, and some ink please?” Cara asked the maid.

“Of course m’lady. I’ll be right back with it.”

Cara sat at the desk in the far corner, the Staff of Magnus returning to its place on her left index finger.

Miraak wandered slowly, and browsed the book selection. It wasn’t much.

After a short moment, Fianna returned, placed the items on the desk, curtsied, and left, softly closing the door behind her.

“What are you writing?” Miraak asked her.

Cara’s elegant, flowing script was soon marking the first piece of parchment. “The first, a letter to Tolfdir, to let him know that I’m even alive. I’m sure it’s been days, if not a week even since I mysteriously vanished from my quarters in the middle of the afternoon. The second, a list of things we will need for our journey back to Winterhold, and the third to an acquaintance of mine in Solitude, she owns a shop and I’m placing an order.”

Miraak nodded.

She paused in her writing. “Also,” she placed the quill back into the ink. “When we travel, you can’t call me Dragonborn, or _Dovahkiin_. I’m not Dragonborn. I’m just the Archmage, a scholar.”

Confusion washed over his featured. “But you are _Dovahkiin_. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’re right, it’s not. In fact, I know most everyone in this province worships the ground the Dragonborn walks on. But I’m not her. I can’t be.”

“And why not?” his gaze was intense, more so without his mask blocking her from seeing his eyes.

“Look at me, do I look like the Dragonborn?”

“Appearance makes no difference. You have the soul of _dovah_ , same as I.”

“I’m not a Nord, Miraak.”

“And?”

“Do you really not know about what’s been going on the last hundred or so years?”

The priest shrugged. “I had other inclinations than to read books from this era that told me nothing of how to escape Mora.”

Cara let out a breath.

“Well, to make a long story short, after the last Septim died, my countrymen got it in their heads that elven supremacy was the right way. So they attacked the Empire. The Empire lost. And now, there was a civil war in Skyrim over the worship of Talos, and about not being under the yoke of a Thalmor-controlled Empire.”

“And?”

Her expression turned to steel.

“I can’t go anywhere in this country without fearing for my life in some way. Most of the Empire-controlled cities are fine, but the Stormcloak-backed cities? Windhelm? I’ve been spat on, insulted, _attacked_. Just for existing and minding my business. All because I have pointed ears and golden skin.

“And if the Nords, even the decent ones that don’t hate any non-human for existing, found out an Altmer, not just an Altmer, but an Altmer who’s family are career military Thalmor Justicars? They’d call for my head. And Ulfric would lead the charge.”

“They would _dare_ attack you?” Miraak’s voice was hard, his fists clenching.

Cara looked him in the eyes. “It wouldn’t matter what I’ve done for them. I’d betrayed them. Because I’m not one of them. I’m not the Nord hero of legend.

“So, please, for my sake, don’t say anything about it, while we travel. You can use your _Thu’um_. But I can’t. Not without my mask.”

“I do not like this, _mal kest_.”

“Neither do I, but my countrymen didn’t think about what would happen. Hammerfell isn’t even in the Empire anymore, and if Ulfric gets his way, Skyrim won’t either. And then all non-humans will likely have to flee or die.” Cara went back to writing. “You’re lucky, aside from the magic part, you’re the most Nordic Nord I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m Atmoran.”

The scratch of the quillpen stopped, Cara slowly looking up at him.

“You- you’re _Atmoran_?”

“I was born in Atmora, so yes, that makes me Atmoran.”

“The Atmorans have been gone for over a thousand years. I can’t- that’s _incredible_.”

“The Dragon Cult was Atmoran, at its core, _mal kest_ , after Ysgramor returned and founded cities here. I’m surprised, actually, that Windhelm is still standing.”

Cara went back to writing. “Not by much. I’m surprised it hasn’t been fixed up. Many of the steps are dangerous to walk, especially in the dead of Winter.”

Miraak had moved to one of the chairs by the fire, and they sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from Cara’s pen and the crackling of the fire.

“I’m requesting some fabric so I can make you a new tunic, which will suffice until we get back to Winterhold, since, the one you’re currently wearing looks like it’s just a bit small.”

“It does its job at the moment, but a different one would do a better job.”

“You could just say ‘please’.”

Silence filled the room again, and in no time, Cara had finished her letters, two of which she wax sealed with the small signet ring that was on her right pinky finger; the symbol of the Archmage of the College of Winterhold.

She stood, and while she was walking better, she still needed to lean on her staff for support. She caught one of the maids going by, and told her where to have them delivered, before returning, and sitting in the chair opposite to Miraak.

“After we get you settled in at the College, if you want to stay there, that is, if you’d like, we can go to Solitude? Visit the temple there and see about your eyes.” Her voice was quiet, unsure.

He seemed to mull over his words a moment before speaking. “If they can be cured of Daedric taint, I would like to try, but I doubt that some priest can cure four thousand years of the mark of being in Oblivion.”

“If the High Priest can’t, then Meridia’s shrine isn’t terribly far. I can ask her-“

“I will _not_ ask another Daedra to cure what has already been _done_ by Daedra.” He spat the words out.

“Meridia-“

“Is a Prince, like the rest.”

“She is a cleansing light. She despises taint of any kind. I’m certain she will help you.”

“And why, _mal kest,_ would Meridia help you when you ask?” His tone was accusatory, his grip firm on the arm rests of the chair he was in.

“I’m her Champion.”

He abruptly stood, the chair nearly toppling over, Cara flinching slightly.

“You are in the service of a Daedra?” His voice was quiet, deadly.

“And Azura.”

Rage washed over his features. “I didn’t take you for a fool, _mal kest_.” His tone mocking.

“Meridia and Azura are kinder than their fellows, and I knew the risks going into it. Not to mention this happened several years ago, before I even knew you existed.”

“The Princes are dangerous. You know that well.”

Cara’s hand came to her neck, some bruising still visible.

“I know you hate the Daedra, but if there’s a chance to, in your own words, ‘rid the Daedric taint’, wouldn’t you take it?”

“Not if it meant going to another one of _them_.”

“Fine then, forget I said anything.”

“How can I, knowing that you are just as tainted by them as I?”

Cara stood. “Look here, you of all people don’t get to judge me about Daedra. I did a task for them, they gave me an artifact. They happen to not be the Daedric Prince of Forbidden Knowledge, _and_ is known to be a cruel and fickle master. Don’t you _dar_ _e_ compare your shit choices to mine.”

He shook his head and stormed out of the room, the door rattling in its frame.

“Self-righteous bastard.”

* * *

Miraak stalked through the corridors of Dragonsreach, maids and servants scrambling to get out of his way.

He wasn’t sure how, but he found the great porch. He had read in a book that the priestess had given him, which was supposed to be a guide to the city, that this keep used to house a captive dragon. What a pitiful existence.

He looked out over the darkening horizon, his forearms coming to rest of the stone balustrade. The landscape hadn’t changed much. He recalled the last time he was in this region, how a small farming village was on this hill, and how a few of the _dov_ decided to raze the village to the ground on a whim.

It was one of the final acts that pushed the humans to rebel. He had heard the news just days before his own attempted rebellion.

He shook his head.

Who was he to lecture her about the dangers of the Princes? She was right, though he would never admit it.

The one solace he had was that Mora could not reach him here. Reach the both of them here.

Which, also means that any other Prince couldn’t reach them. The worst they could do is send their followers after them, and Mora doesn’t have particularly dangerous followers, him excluded. Most of them were driven insane from the knowledge they sought.

Her Daedric influences weren’t the only things on his mind.

What troubled him more, what had been troubling him since he regained consciousness was her near self-sacrifice for his life.

He felt the need to confront her about it, but he knew would only escalate into an argument.

It was foolish what she had done. She could have died. He could have died, and then what? It would have been for nothing. The _Diist Dovahkiin_ and _Laat Dovahkiin_ , died together on the golden fields of the Heart of Skyrim. How terribly poetic.

He ran a hand though his hair, when was the last time he cared for the fate of another other than himself? He honestly couldn’t remember. Before Apocrypha, he wasn’t a complete fool. He weighed his actions, as the slightest misstep could have cost him his life or his position. Well, both really. There were no disgraced Dragon Priests that were allowed to live. He focused only on himself. His blood brother was his only companion, but he did find friends in the other priests of Solstheim. Except for Ahzidal. The old man was bizarre.

But this was different. He could feel it. There had been women, courtesans of the cult that were eager to serve. He felt no attachment to them. He wasn’t allowed to have feelings towards the women who served him. He was a Dragon Priest. Love and Marriage was one of the many sacrifices they willingly gave up to obtain their position.

He shook his head. No. He’s just attached because she’s the only person he’s had a conversation with for four thousand years. Once he’s reacclimated to living on Tamriel, his fascination with her will cease.

Yes. That is what will happen.

The sky was dark now, the twin moons nearly full. Miraak stared at them. He forgot what the night sky had looked like.

While in the temple, he hadn’t went outside. Streaks of bright pinks and reds and oranges began to faintly arch and wind across the sky, lighting up the gentle hills around Whiterun.

He was _free_. It hadn’t hit him until that moment.

He was back on Tamriel, far away from Mora, away from torment and the endless, colorless realm of Apocrypha.

He let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

Miraak wasn’t sure of how long he stared at the night sky, but when he returned to his shared quarters, the candles had been blown out, the only light coming dimly from the hall and from the fireplace.

He spotted _ok kest_ under the furs of the bed, curled in a ball. The sound of chattering teeth reaching his ears.

“ _Mal kest?_ ” he approached the bed, sitting on the edge, tugging his boots and socks off, his too-tight shirt following.

“You- you decided to-to come back and app-apologize.” Her chattering teeth made her stammer.

“You are cold? I’ve been gone a while, but it seems like the warm months.”

“My-my body is w-weak still. I’m fre-freezing.”

He sighed, pulling back the furs.

“ _Meyz het, mal kest.”_

She was facing him, and scooted closer. Miraak wrapped his arms around her, bringing her to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Every place their skin met felt as if it was on fire, but not unpleasantly. It was a sensation he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Divines how are you _so warm_?” her voice was quiet, he felt her breath on his skin.

“Atmora was a harsh land.” His deep voice vibrated though his chest. “Atmorans are more resistant to the cold than Nords are.”

“Where were you when I was freezing to death in Alftland?”

“You know the answer to that question, _mal kest_.”

She pulled away to look at him. “Why do you call me ‘little tempest’, anyway?”

Her eyes were much more vibrant than they had been several hours before. He held their gaze.

“You disrupted my plans like a tempest does.”

“So it’s less a term of endearment and more like an insult then. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He rolled his eyes, she smiled.

“Also, I’m sorry about the scar.” She paused a second, and he felt faintly her fingertips gently run across the new, circular shaped scar on his chest.

“It’s one to join the others. I care not for physical appearance.”

“I’m usually better with scars, is all.”

The arm she wasn’t laying on left where it was keeping her to his chest, his hand cupping her cheek, making her look him in the eye.

“You did enough, _mal kest._ I am here because of you. Do not apologize you could not rid a scar of a wound I would have died from. _Especially_ since you foolishly nearly gave your life to heal it.”

To his surprise, she didn’t speak, just stare at him with wide, surprised eyes. He looked away, the hand at her cheek sliding back, pulling her back to him.

“Go to sleep, _mal kest._ You need to rest.”

Again, to his surprise, she didn’t argue.

It wasn’t long before he felt her breathing even out, her body relax fully. He soon found himself tired, and quickly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diist- first  
> Meyz het- come here


	6. Praan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery and preparation to return to Winterhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it took a bit for this one, I've been really busy the last few days. 
> 
> Chapter title translation: Rest

When he woke, the first thing he noticed was the weight on his arm, and that his side was far warmer than it should be. Opening his eyes, blinking to clear his vision, he glanced down, _ok kest_ resting her head on his chest, a hand splayed out next to her head, her fingertips hot on his skin.

Since the first time he had touched her, forcing her to look at him, he felt the power under his fingertips, could feel the thrum of the soul of a _dovah_ underneath.

When they first spoke, when he had invaded her dream, she had been ghostly, a shade of herself. He couldn’t feel the power that came off of her like he could in her physical form. He had long pondered why her touch was both scorching and soothing at once, he suspected it was their souls clashing, needing to fight for dominance.

He glanced down at her. Her unbound hair had covered part of her face, and he inadvertently gently brushed it out of the way, behind her pointed ear. It felt like fine silk, as he thought it would.

He quickly retracted his hand. She was asleep, he had no right to touch her. The only reason he wasn’t on the far side of the bed was to keep her warm. Trying not to wake her, he shifted, trying to reclaim his arm, but it was no easy task. She was a heavy sleeper, it seemed, or she was just that exhausted, but she did not wake by the time Miraak had successfully stood.

He pulled on his shirt, grimacing at how tight it was across his shoulders and biceps. Every time he moved he was sure the seams would pop, but surprisingly they had held together thus far. He pulled on his socks and boots, lacing and tying them. His stomach rumbled. That was one thing he couldn’t get used to after four thousand years. Sleeping seemed less foreign, surprisingly. It felt relieving to quiet his mind for a few hours.

Quietly, he slipped from the room, his destination the Great Hall, and hopefully to find some breakfast.

* * *

When Cara woke, she was both surprised and not at Miraak’s absence. Disappointment filled her.

It was foolish, she knew, but she cared about him. She even entertained the notion that they were friends, though she had no idea if Miraak felt the same.

He was difficult to figure out. Before, the few months it took to find the way to free him – which she was mildly annoyed she had the answer the entire time – she thought she had started to figure out his moods and the subtleties of his body language. But every time she thought she made progress, he’d close her off, or surprise her, like last night.

He was reserved, she knew. He hadn’t spoken to Balgruuf, nor really anyone else. He seemed content to speak to only her, though she knew that if she had been locked away for four thousand years, she would try and interact with anyone she could.

But she was also a rather personable person. She often enjoyed the company of others, which seemed to be quite the opposite of Miraak.

Cara hugged the furs closer to herself. She thought back to the night before, with a small smile. Though she suspected his reasoning was just repayment for her saving his life, his actions were almost tender, especially in the way he held her close to him.

She shook her head. What did she know of such things? Just over two hundred old and she only been kissed once. Once, not by her choice, by her fiancée before he left to go to the mainland on an assignment.

And she was more than glad that his assignment was too short notice to plan their wedding. But she really didn’t want to think about that right now.

Cara threw back the furs, standing. She methodically put her outer robes on, along with her socks and boots. She was feeling much better today, but she knew she still wasn’t in traveling condition. One or two more days, and they would leave.

Rising from the bed once more, her intent to procure some breakfast, she heard the door creak open. Turning, she saw Miraak, wrapped packages in hand.

“Good morning!” She smiled at him.

He gently kicked the door shut behind him, depositing the packages on the bed.

She came to his side, reaching for one of the packages He stopped her, one large head coming under her chin to get her to look him in the eye.

“How are you feeling _mal kest_?” he asked.

“Much better, I don’t quite feel like death warmed over a fire anymore.” She joked.

He retracted his hand. “Your appearance has improved.”

She scoffed. “Really? That’s quite rude.” Her tone was teasing.

His gaze hardened. “I’ve seen corpses in better conditions than you were.

Cara winced. “Divines, I knew it was bad, but not like that.”

“How did you even learn that spell? It was uncommon even in my time.”

“Tome studying the spell I found in Labrynthian, so courtesy of Shalidor, probably.”

“You shouldn’t use it. It’s dangerous.”

“I know it is,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I’ve only ever used it once before, because it was use it or die.”

He seemed as satisfied as he was going to get with that answer.

“Also, I wanted to thank you, about last night. It was kind of you, especially after that argument.”

He was silent for a short moment. “Had I not, your chattering wouldn’t have allowed me to sleep anyway.”

The small smile she had fell, her shoulders deflating. “Right, of course.” She worried her top lip between her teeth, her eyes looking at the floor. “Excuse me.” Her tone was soft, and almost sad.

She stepped around him, quickly leaving the room, the door quietly closing behind her, but to Miraak, it felt as if it was slammed.

* * *

Her response was not what he was expecting. He expected anger, or a joke to dissolve the tension, not sadness.

Guilt rose in his chest.

What was this? He didn’t feel guilt. Least of all guilt for his words. And yet, the feeling took hold of him. He should go after her.

And what? Apologize? _He_ didn’t apologize.

He paced back and forth across the room, before deciding to just sit and read, waiting for her to return. He had no desire to roam the keep, and going out into the city was even less appealing.

* * *

Even though she had lost her appetite, Cara snagged an apple from the kitchens, and decided to walk down to Jorrvaskr. She needed to speak with Kodlak anyway.

When she was in top shape, the quick jaunt down to Jorrvaskr from Dragonsreach would be nothing, but by the time she stepped into the mead hall, she felt as if she needed a nap.

Farkas gave her a near bone-crushing hug, lifting her off the ground.

“How are you doing? Danica hadn’t let us in to see you, she said you needed rest.”

The Nord placed her back on the ground. “I’m doing better, it’s just been a trying last few days. Another day or two and we’ll be heading back to Winterhold.”

“Oh yeah, Vilkas and I had to help carry your friend to the Temple.”

“I can imagine. I’d love to chat, Farkas, but the way down from Dragonsreach has left me tired. I came to speak to Kodlak.”

“He’s in his study I think. And if you need someone to carry you back up, let me know.”

Cara hugged the Nord. “Thank you Farkas, but I’m sure I can manage.”

She disappeared downstairs, and walked down the long hall, gently rapping her knuckles on the open door.

“Carawen, it’s good to see you my dear.” The old man rose, giving Cara a tight hug, before sitting again, and offering her the other chair.

She smiled. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, everything has been so hectic lately.”

“It’s quite alright. Life is fast-paced when you are so young.”

“I’m older than you are.” She joked.

He chuckled. “Yes you might be, but I still have wisdom to part with.” He readjusted in his seat. “So, my dear, what did you need to speak about? Or just catching up?”

“I was going to send a letter with a marked map, but then I had to deal with an assassination attempt-“

“Ah, yes. That was the talk of the town for weeks after. To think, someone tried to kill the Dragonborn.”

“It’s not the first time, and it will likely not be the last. But, if you have a map handy, I found Ysgramor’s tomb.”

Kodlak’s eyebrows rose. “You did?”

“I think it is. There’s a statue of him, and a door that I cannot, even after several days of trying, open. His statue is missing something, though. I think Wuuthrad is the key.”

The Nord nodded, and handed a small map to her, with a quill pen. “It’s about here, on an island north in the Sea of Ghosts. I’m not going to lie, its dangerous to get to. It’s rather far out to sea, and the waters are choppy.” She marked the location, handing the map and quill back to him.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

“And though it’s rather unprecedented, if you need to, the Companions are always welcome at the College.”

“Thank you my dear. I’m proud you’ve found your place.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. She always did like Kodlak, always the father figure to everyone that needed guidance.

He spoke again. “Is that it? It seems you have something on your mind.”

“I-“ she paused. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “Then try.”

She regaled him with her story, starting when she landed on Solstheim and ended with Miraak being an ass just hours before.

“It sounds if he is trying to push you away.”

“I know.” She sighed. “He’s just so frustrating. I’m just trying to help, to be kind to him. I don’t think anyone has ever been genuinely kind to him, not without wanting something in return.”

“And you don’t want something in return for your kindness?”

“Him to live a life outside of the influence of the Dragon Cult and Mora. Is that such a selfish thing?”

“Even if that life might not include you in any way?”

“If it means he’s happy, of course.”

“And you would have done what you’ve done for him for anyone? Are you sure you’d be satisfied if he just up and left you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t saddened, or disappointed.”

“I think, my dear, that you care about him more than you think you do.”

“But-“

“Think about it. It doesn’t have to be now, but think on it.”

“I will.” She paused, thinking. “He’s been alone for so long. And I have no idea what I’m doing, if I’m being honest. I defeated Alduin, end of prophesy. But I can’t help but feel as if there’s more on the horizon.”

“There likely is. You are extraordinary, Carawen. The Gods always seem to give extraordinary people challenges to overcome. And, the Gods seem fit to give this Era two Dragonborns. Which likely means there’s a far greater threat looming.”

Cara worried her bottom lip. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“This is why we sit and talk, yes?”

She gave him a small smile. “Your counsel is always invaluable, Kodlak. Thank you.” She rose. “I would love to talk more, but I’m rather tired.”

“Of course, you’re still recovering.” They hugged. “Stop by before you leave again, my dear. It would be nice to say goodbye.”

“Of course I will. I always do.”

* * *

Miraak was sitting in the chair by the hearth, partway through a rather boring book when the door creaked open. He glanced up, his eyes tracking her movement. She was tired.

She sat on the bed, her back against the carved wooden headboard, and pulled a package into her lap, where she pulled off the twine and paper wrappings. He returned to his book.

He could hear the other packages being opened. Silence filled the room after, until he heard the sound of fabric being cut. He glanced over.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a new tunic.”

Surprise crossed his features. “You are?”

She muttered something that vaguely sounded like “Not like you deserve it.” She spoke louder then, “It’s freezing in Winterhold, even in the Summer. That tunic I’m guessing Danica gave you isn’t going to last long, especially when we have to fight.” She stopped her cutting for a moment, and grabbed a folded pile of cloth and fur. “Come here.” It wasn’t a request.

Sighing, he stood and placed the book on the table. She stood as well, unfolding the cloth and draping it across his shoulders. He was surprised at the weight of it. She clasped the front clasps, her hands resting on his chest.

“There. It’s a little short but it’ll keep you warm at least.”

He glanced down. A large fur mantle was draped across his broad shoulders, the long brown and gold-toned fur swallowing making his shoulders look even larger. The dark brown of the wool was thick, and lined with shorter fur on the inside. It was a little short, just by a few inches.

“You’ll need it going to Winterhold, if you still want to go with.” She said, stepping back out of his space.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but stayed silent, unsure what to reply with. He waited for her answer.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do as I say.” She was looking anywhere but him.

“ _Mal kest, koraav ahst zey._ ”

She did, her violet eyes meeting his blue and black eyes.

“You cannot tell me what to do. I do as I please, and I would accompany you to your College.”

“Even if you are an ass, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. If you do decide to leave, though, I just ask you tell me?”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Well, guess that’s it then.” She resumed her spot on the bed, now threading a needle.

He also sat back down and picked up the book, but did not open it.

“And where does the _Ahtlahzey_ of an institution learn to make garments?”

“When I was younger, I was being trained to be the Lady of my future husband’s house, a homemaker. I had to learn how to sew, and embroidery also keeps the mind and hands busy, so it’s a common pastime for noble women. The Isle of Alinor is also famed for its textiles and sericulture, so it’s a much more common skill. After I left, if being an actual scholar didn’t work out, I was going to open a shop in the Imperial City, making fine clothes and mages robes.”

“You would be content in being a shopkeeper?”

She paused in her stitching. “Was it the life I truly wanted? Probably not. But I got to choose it, and that’s all that matters to me. My father had my life planned for me before I would walk. A simple life isn’t a bad one.”

He knew what that was like, not having a choice about one’s life. He opened the book, his eyes turning to the words but not reading them.

“I understand the want of personal freedoms.”

He saw her halt her movements out of the corner of his eye.

“It seems _Dovahkiinne_ don’t get to have a lot of say over their fate, do we?”

“No, I suppose we do not.”

* * *

The rest of the day was spent like that, Cara sewing and Miraak reading, though he did often cut his gaze over to the elf, observing her work.

They ate with the rest of the keep, Balgruuf talking animatedly with Cara, and trying to coax Miraak into the conversation. He spoke little, just enough to keep the Jarl happy that he was included in the conversation.

After dinner, Cara went straight to bed. He could tell she was exhausted, though her completion was nearly back to normal, which was a very good sign.

He stayed up only a little longer, before he found himself tired as well.

When he settled into the bed, he could feel her shivering.

_“Mal kest, los hi krah?”_

“I’m fine.”

He rolled over. “ _Meyz het.”_

It took her a moment, but she did roll over, and they settled themselves into the position they had been in the night before. He felt her cold fingers against his chest.

“You don’t make any sense to me, you know that?” she muttered.

“How so?” his voice was quiet.

“You insult me or are a complete ass one moment, then you’re doing things like this. Nice things.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. She was right. But he was not a person that did many things without thinking them through, his words especially. Every time he said something, he meant to do it.

“I know you’re probably not good with people, and that’s fine. I just- I’m trying. I’m trying to be understanding to everything.”

He said nothing, but held her closer to him. He had no words for her.

Like an actual apology, thank you was not in his vocabulary.

“I also understand that earlier was your way of apologizing, so I’m going to take your silence as a thank you.”

She was more perceptive than he perhaps gave her credit for.

“Hush, _mal kest_. You need rest.”

She sighed. “Goodnight, Miraak.”

_“Pruzlon, mal kest.”_

* * *

The next day was relatively uneventful. Cara moved to the great porch to sew after their midday meal, and not long before their evening meal, she had finished it.

Miraak slipped it on; it was already much more comfortable. Though he longed for his old robes, he knew that it would be time before they could be replaced.

Perhaps it was a good thing, however. That his robes were destroyed. He wore them for four thousand years, they were the physical symbol of his past allegiance to Hermaeus Mora, his robes, and mask. His sword and staff must have been lost in Apocrypha, not that he cared too much. They were tainted, same as his eyes. He would need to procure new weapons, sooner rather than later. While he was more than confident with his magical ability, his ability and the reliability of a blade is nothing to be scoffed at.

While at dinner, Cara announced that they would be leaving in the morning, that she felt well enough to make the journey back to Winterhold.

“Balgruuf, for the last time, you’re not giving me a horse.”

“Cara, just take the damned horse. It’s easier and faster to travel with than by cart, you know that. And, you don’t own one.”

“Because a good horse is expensive and-“

“And I’m your friend, and I’m giving you a horse. I don’t need as many as I have anyway.”

The elf crossed her arms. “Fine.”

The Jarl then looked very smug and pleased with himself for the rest of the night.

After their meal, Cara and Miraak retired for the evening, preparing their new traveling provisions for the morning.

They went to bed at the same time, deciding that the most sleep they could get the better.

Miraak stayed to one side of the bed, but he felt her at his back.

“My hands are cold.” He heard her murmur.

With a sigh, he rolled over, and covered her much small hands with his.

“Thank you.”

“Gloves exist, you know.” He muttered.

“Yes but I’m not wearing them to bed.”

“How can you be this cold still in the Summer.”

“It never snows on Summerset. Before I went to Cyrodiil, I had never seen snow before.”

“Truly?”

“Mmhm. Though, I bet you’ve never seen waters so clear or blue, or so warm yet cool on a hot Summer day. I bet you’ve never swam in the ocean before.”

“I have never been south of the Jeralls before.”

“That’s a shame. I’ll have to take you one day, I think you would love the Imperial City. It’s a sight to behold.”

“Perhaps one day, _mal kest._ But not tomorrow. We should rest.”

“We should.” She gave him a small, sleepy smile. “Goodnight.”

“ _Pruzlon.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Cara really 200?? yeah. So because bethany-esda never has consistent lore or gives us answers on the most basic stuff, I'm going with this headcanon: most humans live a normalish lifespan, those with magic tend to live longer. The more powerful the mage, the longer the lifespan. Elves usually live much longer, several hundred years, but like with the humans, the more powerful the mage, the longer the lifespan. Our boy Divayth Fyr is like 4000 years old, Mannimaro (even tho he's pretty much a lich) also lived to be old as hell, so did Barenziah. Idk if it's just Todd's poor lore planning, but that's what's up in this version anyway.
> 
> Koraav ahst zey- look at me (koraav means 'see' really but dovahzul doesn't really follow english grammar lmao)  
> Ahtlahzey- archmage (this is aureliu_s's word, they're being awesome and letting me use it!!)  
> Los hi krah- are you cold  
> Meyz het- come here  
> Pruzlon- a word I created for 'goodnight' it combines the words 'pruzah' and 'vulon'


	7. Rovaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long and trying journey back to Winterhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Hope you enjoy this one! Thank you to everyone's kind words and kudos!! Y'all are the best!! Sorry this one took a bit longer, I've been busy and this chapter just kept going on forever. 
> 
> Head's up, there's some darker shit in this chapter, and it gets a little risque.  
> Chapter title translation - Wander

The day greeted them too early.

Cara reluctantly got out of the bed, wanting to get underway as soon as possible so they could get to Winterhold.

“Rise and shine.” She gently poked Miraak’s shoulder.

He rolled over with a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed.

Cara redressed in her robes and boots, brushed out her hair and rebraided it, pining the braid up in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

Miraak finger-combed through his messy blond locks and retied half his hair up out of his face.

What little they had to pack had been packed before, just food provisions and other supplies they would need for the trip to Winterhold. 

Balgruuf met them in the great hall, giving Cara a hug goodbye, and a firm nod to Miraak.

They left Dragonsreach, and began their descent down the large hill, Cara leading them towards Jorrvaskr. 

“Where are we going?” the dragon priest asked.

“I told Kodlak I’d say goodbye when we left, and Farkas would track me across the holds if I also didn’t say goodbye.”

Miraak’s gaze landed on the boat that made up the roof of the mead hall. He felt almost as if he recognized it.

“What is this?”

“Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions.”

A blond eyebrow rose. “As in Ysgramor’s Five Hundred Companions?”

“Well, there’s certainly not five hundred of them anymore, but yes, the very same.”

Miraak hummed in thought.

Cara opened the doors to the mead hall, the warmth of the fire greeting them. Most of the Companions were at the tables, breaking their fast. Kodlak, dressed in his armor already, rose at the sight of the elf.

“My dear! Does this mean you are leaving us once again?”

She smiled at the old man, returning his tight hug. “I’m afraid it does, though I promise to come visit in a few months.”

Kodlak gave her a warm smile. “I know you will my dear, you always do.” He leaned in a bit closer, his voice quiet, “Is this the lad you told me about?”

Cara gave a small nod. Kodlak winked at her, then crossed the few feet distance and embraced Miraak.

Well, tried to.

Cara watched as the Atmoran stood very still, his eyes wide and looking slightly bewildered.

“Carawen has told me a lot about you, my lad.” He clapped the dragon priest on the arm.

“ _Drem Yol Lok, wuth mun.”_

Kodlak stepped back and turned his attention to Cara. “You know you are always welcome here, my dear. And my offer to join us still stands.”

She patted the Nord on the arm. “I appreciate it as always, but I have a College to run. I’ll see you all in a few months.”

“Not without saying goodbye to me!” Farkas picked her up from behind.

“Farkas, put her down.” Vilkas said. He hadn’t left his chair, his dark eyes boring a hole though both Cara and Miraak.

“He always does it, I don’t mind so much anymore.” Cara laughed. She properly hugged Farkas and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Stay out of trouble, I don’t want to have to rescue you from any more ruins.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Cara hugged Kodlak one last time, also pecking the old man on the cheek. “If any of you find yourself up in Winterhold, don’t be strangers.”

“Goodbye, my dear.”

“Goodbye everyone! Goodbye, Kodlak.” They left, Cara waving to the Companions, giving the old man one last smile before closing the door.

* * *

As they walked though the Plains district, past the Mare, Miraak spoke up.

“You seem rather friendly with a group you seem to not be a member of.”

The question caught Cara slightly off guard. “Oh, yes. It’s a bit of a funny story, that. I was by happenstance going into the same ruin as Farkas, who was looking for a fragment of Wuuthrad. I was just in the area and the site looked promising for research, and I found Farkas, trapped,” she graciously left out the part where he was a massive wolf and was cornered by the Silver Hand, “So I helped him out, he got his fragment, I got some research material, he offered for me to come back to Jorrvaskr for a drink, and Kodlak took a shine to me. I’m not the fighting type really, so I thought my talents in being bookish could help them find the other missing pieces. They’ve almost found them all, actually.”

“You seem especially close with the _wuth mun_.”

She smiled. “Kodlak is like the father I wish mine was. He was so proud when I told him I was the new Arch-Mage, after he lectured me about being more careful about magic and being careful in general. He’s always supported me, even though he hardly knew me for the longest time. He’s a good man.”

They had reached the city gates, the morning shift guards nodding their heads in greeting.

As they always were, the gates had been opened at dawn, letting the cool summer morning breeze flow through the open streets of the city.

They walked in a comfortable silence to the stables, where as Balgruuf said, a gorgeous black horse was waiting for them, a boy no older than twelve holding the reins.

Cara fished a few coins out of the small purse that Balgruuf had given her and handed them to the boy.

“Her name is Onyx, m’lady.”

“Thank you.”

The boy ran off to tend to the other horses, as Miraak and Cara strapped their packs to the saddlebags.

Onyx was a huge horse, from Cara’s standards. All the Nord-bred horses were.

“How do you want to go about this?” she asked.

“I would prefer not to walk the whole way, nor trade walking to riding. It will take far too long.”

“Then I guess we share the horse then. You get on first.”

He mounted the horse, a bit unsure. It had literally been ages since he had ridden a horse. He scooted back a little, giving her room to pull herself up in front of him.

Cara double checked the straps on their packs, then mounted the horse as well, she felt Miraak’s large hands settle on her waist, steadying her.

“Ready?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

He grunted his affirmation, pulling up the hood on his cloak.

Cara gently nudged the horse forward, and they began their long journey to Winterhold.

* * *

While they enjoyed the slightly warmer weather on the southern road to Windhelm, as they were turning North, the ever-present frost and cold set in around them.

Cara pulled up her hood.

“We’re going to stop in Windhelm tonight. I got a letter from and alchemist there asking for me to look into something for him.”

“Windhelm still stands?” Cara could feel his deep voice rumble through his chest pressed to her back.

“If you want to call it standing. Ulfric has been too busy funding his war to fix his city.”

“Before, you said there was a war. Is it not still ongoing?”

“I made the Empire and Ulfric agree to an armistice, and that they’d face the wrath of the Dragonborn if either of them broke the peace. Neither of them wants to test how true to my word I am. Or they fear the dragons that follow my orders.” 

“The _dov_ follow you?”

“After I defeated Alduin, a large number of them elected to follow my orders. I told them to stop attacking and killing people, to only take what they need, if not, then they end up like Alduin.”

“You know, Felldir and the others wanted me to challenge Alduin.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My rebellion was far more important to me at the time.”

“Just think, if you had, I likely wouldn’t be here.”

“You would have been Dragonborn had Alduin been defeated by me.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “According to the Akaviri, I wouldn’t have.”

He waited for her to elaborate.

“Have you ever heard of Alduin’s Wall?”

“I have not.”

“It’s a wall carving the Akaviri created in the first era. It outlines a prophecy on when Alduin would return, as well as recorded the history of the Dragon War.”

“Prophecy?”

“When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world, when the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped, when the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles, when the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls, when the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding, the World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.”

“Sounds as vague as prophecies are ought to.”

“The explanation is quite clear, after the event happens that is. I find it interesting that all the events, with the exception of the civil war, all took place at the end of the third era.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“You really did not pay attention to what was going on out here for that long?”

“As I said before, I had more pressing matters to deal with.”

“Fair enough. When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world refers to the Staff of Chaos, when Jagar Tharn impersonated the Emperor and trapped him in a Plane of Oblivion. When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped, is referring to the Dragon Break that led to the Warp in the West. When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles, is when the Nerevarine overthrew the Dunmer Tribunal, and inadvertently caused the eruption of Red Mountain. When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls, is the Oblivion Crisis, and the Great War that followed after. The last, the Snow tower is Skyrim, and refers to the Civil War.

“Though, after actually discovering how Alduin was defeated in the Dragon War, it’s not as those events had to happen to foretell of his return, so much as they are the events that happened before he got spat back out at the other end of the time wound.”

“I did find a scroll about what had happened to Alduin. Felldir wrote about what happened at the _Monahven_.”

“I have the scroll they used. _Dov Kel_.”

“Truly?” Miraak didn’t bother hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Locked up tight in a forgotten part of the Midden at the College.”

“Where did you find such a thing?”

“A Dwemer ruin, and it nearly killed me a few times. Between the cold, the machines, and the Falmer, it’s a wonder I made it out of Blackreach. I hadn’t a clue where I was going.”

“You should be more careful, _mal kest_.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to get myself killed.”

“It seems as if you are rather good at it.”

She let out a small laugh.

“I guess I am.”

* * *

It was nearing dusk when they left Onyx at the stables of Windhelm.

Miraak noticed the change in her, how she seemed to make herself smaller, how she pulled her hood forward more, almost as if she was desperate to hide.

He raised an eyebrow when she linked her arm with his, pulling him close.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Using your Nord-passing privilege. Just, please go along with it. And I know you’re a stickler for respect, so no matter what you here, just ignore it. It’ll make it worse if you don’t.”

“Why are we here if it’s so dangerous?”

“It’s not, really. It’ll just be easier to move around with seven feet of Atmoran man next to me. And they’ll be less likely to accost me.”

He huffed. “As you wish, _mal kest._ ”

The guard eyed the pair as they entered the gates, his gaze lingering on the elf at his side.

Once inside the city, she turned to him, handing him a few coins. “Here, take this, rent us a room for tonight, and meet me in the marketplace when you’re done, I’ll go see Nurelion and restock our supplies.” He nodded to her, and she left him, headed towards the market.

It seemed as the market location hadn’t changed from when he last set foot in the city, over four thousand years ago. It looked more like a crumbling ruin than the once-great city he knew, however. _Ok kest_ wasn’t exaggerating when she said that it was hardly standing anymore. It seemed as if the only reason the stone under his feet was being held together was by the snow and ice that covered them. When the cult ruled, Windhelm - Hiinzahaad _-_ the streets would be free of ice and snow, the city immaculate. Time ravaged all, but for this city to still standing and not Bromjunaar, the once-great capital, he found saddening. The ancient city was once his home, now he suspected, rendered not much more than a pile of crumbling stone, if Hiinzahaad’s state was anything to go by.

Miraak shook his head, chasing the memories of ages long past away, and trudged up the worn and broken steps to the inn he spotted when they first came in the city.

The heat from the inn nearly slapped him in the face when he pulled open the thick wooden door. The barkeep glanced up from wiping down the counter. The dragon priest placed the coins on the counter. “I need a room for the night.”

The Nord reached under the countertop and handed Miraak a brass key. “All the way down the hall, last door on the left.”

The Atmoran nodded his head, and left the inn, in search of _ok kest_.

* * *

He found her talking to an Altmer, who was depositing things into her pack.

The elf’s eyes widened at his approach, which prompted _ok kest_ to turn. “There you are. Did you get us a room?”

“I did.” He held up the key. “Good, we should retire early,” she lowered her voice so that only really he could hear it “so we can get out of this thrice-damned city.” She turned her attention to the other elf, speaking in Aldmeris, presumably saying goodbye to her.

Miraak spotted a sign that read “The White Phial”. “Does the shopkeeper know of the artifact he’s named his shop after?”

She had taken his arm once again. “He does, that’s why he contacted me, actually. He’s spent his entire life looking for the Phial, but he’s come to a dead end.”

“How fortuitous then, that I know where it lies.”

She turned those rich violet eyes up towards his. “Truly?”

“It lies in a crypt, hidden in a cave. It’s not far from here, just North of the lake.”

“I’ll have to come back in a month or so then, after we get you settled in and I can free up my schedule enough to make a several week trip.”

“Just you?”

“I didn’t want to assume you would like nor enjoy following me around.”

“ _Mal kest,_ I was trapped in a library for four thousand years, and now I will be staying in an institution of learning, surrounded by more books. It will be a welcome change of scenery.”

“Only if you want, I’m not about to make you come with me. I’ll see if Teldryn is up for a new adventure.”

“I do not mind, _mal kest_.”

They had almost made it back to the inn. “You do know my name, yes?”

“ _Geh_. Of course I know your name.” he was silent for a beat. “Does _mal kest_ bother you?”

“No! No, I was just curious.”

He hummed in response. He eyed her face, mostly obscured by the hood of her cloak, but he swore he saw just the lightest pink tinge to her cheeks.

The sun had just disappeared over the mountains, blanketing the city in darkness. They entered the inn, setting their pack down on the floor near two stools, Cara taking the lone stool on the short end of the counter, Miraak sitting in the adjacent one. The innkeep caught eye of Cara.

“I don’t serve filth like you here.” He spat at her. Miraak pulled his hood down. “She’s with me.”

The Nord grunted. “It’s none of my business who you like to rut with, but I’d find a good Nord girl that won’t stab you in the back.”

Miraak’s blackened eyes grew hard, he all but threw coin at the man. Through clenched teeth he said, “Just get me two of whatever you’ve got.”

“Susanna!” the innkeep shouted. When he received no response, he grumbled some curses and went off to find the woman he was shouting for. A few moments later, the innkeep returned, a tall, blond young Nord woman was behind him, carrying two bowls of soup. She set them down in front of the both of them, making extra sure her low cut dress dipped just a little lower in Miraak’s eyesight. Cara rolled her eyes, but began eating.

It was by far not the quality of food they had enjoyed at Dragonsreach, but it was far better than the few days they had lived off of trail rations and the few hares Cara had caught for their dinner.

They quickly ate in silence, the long day of traveling and days of taking shifts while sleeping wearing away at their stamina.

Cara longed for a cup of wine, but she doubted that the innkeep would serve her.

After their meal, they spoke quietly.

“It should take about four days to get to Winterhold, maybe a bit less if we try to push it. The snows shouldn’t be too bad since it’s the middle of Summer, but a Summer blizzard isn’t unheard of that far North.”

“The cold will not bother me, _mal kest_. It is you that will need a fire for the night.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been in worse, plus I bought a few potions earlier to help combat the cold a little.”

The Nord woman came back, collecting their dishes. The elf resumed talking after she left. “We should get going at dawn, maybe even a bit before. Try and get as much ground covered as we can.”

Miraak nodded, noticing her gaze flick from him to something else. Before he could turn, the woman was back, this time a bottle of mead in her hands.

She leaned on the bar next to his stool, her thigh firmly against his own. “This one is on the house, just for you.”

The dragon priest fixed his gaze on the woman in front of him, and took the bottle. She stood from her spot leaning on the counter, and leaned in close to his ear, saying something Cara couldn’t quite catch, but she did catch a feminine hand linger around his waistline, his intense gaze on the woman’s chest.

The elf scoffed, grabbed her pack off the floor and exited the inn, into the cold night.

* * *

Light was just coming over the mountains, Miraak paced. Where was she? _Ok kest_ had not returned from when she had left the night before. He had gone out and searched for her but found no sign.

He stopped pacing, instead crossed his arms and stared down the long bridge to the city gates. He saw the heavy gates open for the morning, and a lone figure step out, limping?

As the figure neared, he saw it was _ok kest_. Why was she limping?

Grabbing the reigns of the mare, he walked closer.

She looked up at him at his approach, her violet eyes cold and tired.

She was limping, gingerly holding her right side, her brow and lip were split, and it looked as if her nose had bled as well, small flecks of dried blood still under her nose.

“What-“

She held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t.”

After tying her pack to the horse, she tried to mount it, stopping nearly immediately with a gasp and a pained cry, falling back onto her feet, Miraak catching her, only for her to hiss in pain.

“Guess they did break a few ribs.” She muttered through clenched teeth. Golden light shone from her fingertips, as did Miraak’s though he was passable at best with restoration magic. She shrugged out of his grip.

“I can do it myself.” She snapped.

He took a step back, out of her personal space.

“ _Mal kest,_ tell me what happened.”

She ignored him, and after a few short moments of healing to her side, she tried to mount the horse again, this time succeeding, though she grit her teeth and swallowed a pained cry. She would work on it more later, right now she just wanted to put as much distance between her and that city as possible.

Miraak pulled himself up behind her, and as soon as he was seated, she spurred the horse into a canter.

Several miles out from the city, Miraak saw the bright golden light again.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.

“Why do you care?” she shot back.

“Because you are injured, rather badly.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“As have I. That doesn’t mean that whoever did it shouldn’t have to pay.”

She was silent for a long moment.

“After I left, since you were _preoccupied_ , I went to go see a friend at the Cornerclub in the Grey Quarter. A few guards decided they didn’t like, what did they say- ‘yellow elves polluting their city more than it already was’- and cornered me. When I tried to get away without blasting them to Oblivion, they beat me, then threw me in an ice-cold cell for the night.”

“You left because of the woman?”

“Yes, Miraak, I left because of her.”

“Are you jealous?”

He felt her body go stiff.

“No, Miraak, I’m not jealous. I’m angry. I’m angry because you didn’t think that we had to share a room, you didn’t think about how I really didn’t have another place to go, or that that woman more than likely would have been glad to see my head on a pike, and yet-“ she cut herself off, her voice rising, thunder rumbling in the distance.

“And yet?” His tone was challenging.

“It’s none of my business who you sleep with, but for professional courtesy’s sake, if not for the common decency of a friend, think about the appropriate time and place, and if they would likely enjoy seeing me dead or locked up.”

Threads of guilt wound its way into his gut.

They were silent for a while after that, until he broke it.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

“Congratulations. I don’t care.”

Silence stretched on for hours after that, she didn’t speak to him, except for the time they had to deal with a small band of would-be highwaymen, but even then it just a warning, her voice as cold as the frigid mountain air around them. She broke the silence over their dinner, huddled close to the fire.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t. Forget I said anything.”

He sighed. “She insulted you. I told her to leave.” A lie, but she didn’t need to know the real reason.

Her eyes caught his across the fire. “How noble of you.”

* * *

_After she had left, the woman – Susanna – gave him a wicked grin. He briefly thought about going after ok kest, but against his better judgement, he stayed._

_“You got a room here tonight?” she asked him._

_He nodded, and she followed him down the hall._

_The second he closed the door and dropped his pack, she had pounced on him, threading her fingers in his hair and tugging, pulling him down to her height for a searing kiss. He felt her hands at the clasp of his cloak, the heavy material falling to the floor with thud. They broke apart, his shirt following the cloak._

_“My, you must be some warrior, to have a scar like that.” She leaned forward to kiss the circular scar on his chest, but he stopped her with his large hands on her shoulders, holding her away from him. He scrutinized the woman before him._

_She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Strong build, attractive features, ample breasts, clear, smooth skin. There was a time where many women like her threw themselves at him, and when the desire struck him, he wouldn’t hesitate. But now…_

_Now flashes of long, black hair and endless violet eyes swirled in his mind._

_“Get out.” He stepped away from her, retrieving his shirt from the floor._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_“Leave.”_

_“I-“_

_“I said to_ leave _.”_

_Anger crossed her features, before she stomped out of the room._

_He retrieved his cloak as well, placing it back on his shoulders. He would go look for_ ok kest _. He left his pack in the room, locking the door behind him, and stepped out into the cold night air._

* * *

The next day was much like the previous, she hardly spoke a word to him, until they reached an inn.

“We’re stopping here for the night.”

They unpacked, Cara tipped the stable boy, and the entered the inn.

While the hearth was welcoming, the patrons were not. “Shit.” She breathed. The inn had about a half dozen of Stormcloak soldiers occupying it. She tightened her grip on her pack, and quickly strode over to the bar.

“Hello, Filek. Two rooms and two bowls of whatever you’ve got on the fire.”

“M’lady Cara, good to see you. I’m afraid I only have one room left.”

She grimaced. “That’s fine. We’re just happy to be indoors.” She handed him the coin and he traded her for the key.

“One second, I’ll have Anna get you both something to eat.”

“I’ll eat in my room, if you don’t mind. Don’t want to stir the pot.”

He gave her a grimace and understanding nod. “Of course.”

A few minutes later, an older woman, about the same age as Fielk came up from the basement.

“Ah, m’lady Cara, it’s good to see you again. You haven’t been by in a while.”

“It’s good to see you too, Anna. And I’m afraid I’ve been busy.”

“Oh of course dear, you’re a busy woman. Enjoy your dinner now.”

Cara smiled at the older woman.

She took her soup and left Miraak at the bar, closing the door behind her.

* * *

She was getting ready for bed when Miraak came into the room. She pulled back the furs and sat on the edge of the bed.

“ _Mal kest,_ let me sleep on that side.”

Her brow furrowed. He set his pack down, and draped his cloak on a chair. He returned to the door, and white light erupted from his palms.

“What are you doing?”

“Placing a ward on the door.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You do not want to know the things they said after you left.”

“I can only imagine.”

She moved to the other side of the bed, the side farther from the door, and climbed in, exhaustion setting in.

Miraak soon joined her, the room plunged into darkness.

“I’m still angry at you.”

He sighed. “I know. I would be as well.”

Sleep soon took them both.

* * *

The last few days of their journey was hard, at least for Cara. She hated traveling back to Winterhold, and not for the first time she cursed Shalidor for building the College on the Sea of Ghosts.

It wasn’t as bad as traveling by herself, as the very large and warm Atmoran at her back helped keep her warm a little.

After the inn, Cara’s anger faded. His, or at least what would be an admission of guilt for him, half- assed apology cooled her anger towards him. That, and it would just make things harder later.

They had pushed themselves the last few days, and as such, even though both they and Onyx were tired, they finally made it Winterhold just after midday on the fourth day.

Taking what remained of their supplies, and handing off the Onyx to the small stables on the outskirts of the small city, paying the owner of the stables to feed and house the animal, they trudged through the snow-filled street, the College looming over the town.

“Welcome to the College of Winterhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know how horses work? Not really. We're going with Very Large Fantasy Horse so,, yeah. Anyway,,
> 
> Drem Yol Lok, wuth mun - greetings, old man (drem yol lok literally means 'peace fire sky')  
> Monahven - the dragon's name for the Throat of the World (directly translates to 'Mother Wind')  
> Hiinzahaad- a word the amazing aureliu_s came up with for the old name for Windhelm, a combination of the words 'City of Unending Snow'


	8. Fahdon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miraak attempts to settle in at the College.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Back with another chapter! Also!! I loosely planned out the rest of this fic, its gonna be around 15 chapters total, with at least three or four other fics coming after it. I'll put it in a series when I have an idea on what to call it. Also! My plan is to have this completed before the end of the year, which hopefully is enough time considering I have a little less than a month left before I move back to school to finish my last year of my undergrad!! (I'm both really excited and also terrified WOOO) so yeah!! I was gonna have this be a long fic but tbh I have such a problem with finishing fics so I'm trying something new this time. ANYWAY,,, without further ado,,,
> 
> Chapter Translation: Friend

The first few days of Cara’s return were rather hectic.

After she had helped Miraak settle in to his new quarters, she had to tend to all the duties she had not meant to leave. Tolfdir and the other Senior Mages were understanding at her sudden disappearance and were more than intrigued at Miraak’s presence. Especially when Cara explained that he was Atmoran, and was once a Dragon Priest.

* * *

_“I know it’s not much, especially with what you used to have in the cult, but it’s a bed and your own space.”_

_Miraak surveyed the small room, his thoughts unreadable._

_“And, if you want, you’re more than welcome to come keep me company in my chambers.”_

_He nodded, not looking at her._

_Cara made to leave, pushing aside the heavy privacy curtain from the door. “If you need anything, at any time, don’t hesitate to ask me.” With that, she had left._

* * *

Since their first full day at the College, nearly a week ago, Miraak had scarcely left her quarters. Cara often found him asleep on her daybed, which was tucked into an alcove in her small personal dining and kitchen area, which was more or less just used as more surfaces for stacks of books and scrolls to rest on.

Which is where Cara found him just now.

It was late, but she still had work to do. She had made herself a cup of tea, one of the few comforts of she missed of Summerset. The fine porcelain was hot in her hands, but she preferred her drinks scalding hot. She took a sip, the sweet aroma that remined her so much of her childhood home filling her soul. Glancing over at the spot Miraak had unofficially claimed as his own, she saw that he was asleep, his head leaning back on the many plush pillows, the tome he was reading forgotten in his lap.

She gently took the tome from his lap, lest it fall, and set it on the crowded table. She really should clean that off. Gently, she shook his shoulder.

“Darling, you should go to bed.” She said, quietly. His dark eyes fluttered open, searching the space in front of him for a moment before they rested on her.

He nodded. “I will take my leave.” His voice was deeper than normal, thick with sleep. The priest stood from the daybed.

“Miraak, I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending more time up here than in your own quarters,” she shifted how she was holding her tea. “I don’t mind it, of course, but- and you don’t have to say anything- if you don’t want to be alone, or if you are uncomfortable with sharing a larger space like that with unfamiliar people, I understand.”

His gaze turned from her, his eyes resting on something on the table.

“It’s okay to admit unease at something. You don’t even have to say anything, you can just, move your things up here if you’d prefer. These quarters are far too large for one person anyway.”

He said nothing, just nodded. His gaze turned to the cup in her hand.

“What is that?” he asked her.

“Oh! It’s tea. It’s far too cold here for it to grow. This is a special blend from Summerset, the Isle of Alinor, specifically. It’s difficult to get this far north, but I have a few friends that pull strings to get it for me. It’s one of the few comforts of home I have.” She paused for a moment before holding the cup out to him. “Would you like to try it?”

He gently took the fine porcelain from her hands and took a small sip. His brows rose.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Would you like a cup?”

“I would.”

She set her cup on the small wooden countertop, and filled a small pot with water, and placed it on the woodburning iron stove.

“You have spoken of your home before. Do you miss it?”

She leaned against the counter, taking a sip. “I do. As much as they have pained me, I miss my family, and my home.”

“Why did you leave then, if you miss it?”

She gave him a tight smile. “My mother always wanted me to live the life I wanted, and that didn’t involve being a good little Lady. I wanted to see the world, to learn, to learn magic. Magic runs strongly in my family, in us all, but for some reason, my father only wanted to cultivate my brothers’ magic, not mine and my sister’s. I remember when we were younger, she and I dreamed of joining the Welkynar.” She remembered fondly with a smile.

“What are they?”

“They’re a legion of battle mages that ride griffons. There’s only ever four hundred of them at a time. It’s the highest honor a warrior could have for the Altmer.”

“Why didn’t you join them then? Or your sister?”

“My father wouldn’t allow it. My only chance to live my life free of his plan for my life was to leave Summerset. So I did.”

“Your father would rather have you waste your talents and skills than nurture them? How, _bizarre_.”

“My father is how he is. He has to be in control of everything, that’s probably why he’s had such a good military career and how he’s high-ranking Justicar in the Thalmor.”

“And your mother?”

“She once had grand notions of adventure but was forced into a marriage she didn’t want by her own family. She loves my father, of course. But it was hard at first, from what she’s told me. She wanted Amaea and I to have the life she couldn’t. And last I heard, Amaea was married and had a son. She wouldn’t leave with me when I left. I still don’t know why.”

“She was weak, unlike you.”

Cara spooned out the hot water into another cup, and placed the tea-filled infuser in.

“You’re not entirely wrong. Though, when I left she was but seventeen. I was twenty six. I was nearly ten years older than her and I was terrified. I don’t really blame her for staying home.” She handed Miraak the cup.

“Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but I want to go back one day, to walk the streets of Alinor again. To see the sunrise on the coast again. To see the gryphons soar, the indriks bound across the meadows.”

“What’s it like?”

She smiled at him. “Why so curious all of a sudden?”

He shrugged and sipped at his tea. “I’ve only seen _Keizaal_ and Atmora.”

“Summerset is the opposite of Skyrim and Atmora. As I’ve said before, I’ve never seen it snow there, there’s some snow on the mountaintops in the winter, but that’s all. The grass is the most vibrant and rich green I’ve ever seen. There’s fields and meadows filled with endless wildflowers. All the colors just seem, richer? In a way. The air is clean and fresh, and it’s just, _home_.”

“You will return, one day.”

“You can come with, if you’d like.” She smiled softly at him. “You should see more of the world.”

“Should you go, I will accompany you.”

A comfortable silence filled the air, both content to sip on their teas.

“Do you miss Atmora?” Cara broke the silence.

“I do. It used to be quite beautiful, if harsh. Now I suspect all that is left is frozen ruins, buried by snow.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it’s like, being the last of your people, your home gone.”

“Time ravages all, _mal kest_. Over four thousand years have spanned between my birth and now. All things must end.”

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

He sighed. “No, perhaps it doesn’t.”

* * *

Miraak settled into a more stable retinue after that night. Without a word, he had taken what few things he owned, things she had given him, and taken them to her rooms. _Their_ rooms.

Despite the easy sort of friendship they had found, and the comforts of the College, Miraak grew restless.

He was alone in their chambers, idlily flipping through her notes on the research she had conducted on how to get him out of Apocrypha. Many of her notes were in the flowing, delicate script of Aldmeris. It was the exact opposite of _dovahzul_ , both in sound and writing. He found it curious.

The sound of voices met his ears, one he recognized as _ok kest_ , the other the _wuth mun_ that assisted her in running the College.

“I know I have responsibilities here, Tolfdir, which is why I loathe to leave so soon again.”

“Carawen, you did not intend to leave before, and to leave for so long. When you leave, you help others, and you further your magical research which in turns helps all of us here. Savos often left most of the day to day operations of running the College to Mirabelle. We understand you needing to leave, especially since before too long winter we be setting in.”

They had reached the top of the stairs, judging by how clearer their voices were.

“And then none of us can really even leave Winterhold for six months. Until the winter snows stop.”

“Exactly. Go. We can handle it here.”

She sighed. I will, in a few days most likely.”

“Then we will wait for your return.”

“Oh, and before I forget, I want to see if it would be possible, maybe next spring or summer, perhaps take some of the Apprentices and Senor Apprentices on a month-long stay in Cyrodiil. It’s not much time, given all there _is_ in Cyrodiil, but enough time to see the University, explore some Ayleid ruins.”

“That sounds like a marvelous idea. I’ll see if there is any interest and contact the University.”

“Thank you Tolfdir, have a good rest of your afternoon.”

“You as well, Carawen.”

Miraak heard the _wuth mun_ leave, his footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

He came around from the wall that separated the living quarters from the workspace. “You are leaving?”

“Preferably with you, if you’re up to it.”

“ _Geh_ , I am growing restless being here.”

She set some papers on her desk. “I noticed that. You haven’t been sitting in one place for very long.”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, my plan is to go retrieve the Phial. Then, after that is taken care of, go to Solitude, see about your eyes, if that’s still something you want to do?”

He nodded. “ _Geh_ , though I think it is a futile effort.”

“It never hurts to try.”

“Your optimism is almost, _inspiring_.” He deadpanned.

She gave him a small smile and rolled her eyes. “Someone has to be the plucky one out of the two of us.”

“I do not think anyone would consider you – _plucky-, mal kest_.”

“Far more than the brooding Atmoran at my side.” She teased.

He shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Well, if we plan to leave the day after tomorrow, we need to get some packing done.” She paused for a moment. “Wait you- you had a sword before, when we first met. What happened to it?”

“I admit, I do not know. I suspect it vanished or fell when you took us from Apocrypha. Not that I miss it.” It served as a reminder of his old master. It was good it was gone.

“Here, come here.” She bushed past him, and he followed.

She led him to their bedroom and kneeled at a chest that was shoved in one corner, books piled on top of it.

“ _Mal kest_ , I have said it before, and I’ll say it once more, organize your research material.”

“I know where everything is, thank you very much.” She placed the books on the floor, and opened the chest, rummaging around in it for a few moments. “Here.” She handed him a sword, which surprised him as it was far colder than it should have been to the touch.

As she stood, he pulled the blade from its scabbard.

The blade almost reminded him of stahlrim in color, though the blade itself was nearly translucent. A fine sheen of frost covered the blade, though the handle itself had none. The magical enchantments hummed with magic beneath his grip.

“What is this?”

“It’s a kind of Malachite, though I’ve never seen blue before. It’s usually green.”

“Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t find it, actually. A business associate from Riften gave to me as a gift for our good partnership. They move a lot of coin and I sell them just about all the gems I’ve come across. She’s more of a bow and knife person, so I get the odd sword. She said it was called ‘Chillrend.”

“It’s an impressive blade.”

“Then it’s yours.”

His dark eyes flicked from the blade to her.

“You would just give me this?”

“Of course. It’s not like I use it.”

Miraak tried to recall the last time someone gifted him with something of this value. He couldn’t remember.

He gave her a small nod, which she returned with a smile.

“If you need anything else, I’m sure I have something around here or we can get it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She then busied herself with gathering materials they would need on their long trip.

“We’ll also see about getting you your own horse, since it’ll be easier to travel that way and faster.”

He returned the sword to its scabbard and set it on his dresser.

In the last few weeks, she had made him several new sets of robes and clothes. While mostly holed up in their rooms, he elected to wear a simple shirt and breeches, but once they were out, he would need the extra protection and warmth his new robes would offer him.

She had enchanted them all, of course. He had quietly observed her while she did. He was rubbish at the more physical practices of magic. Alchemy, enchanting. He excelled in almost all the schools of magic instead, so he supposed it was a rather fair trade.

 _Mal kest,_ however, seemed to enjoy and even exceed in alchemy. She would tend to her garden, make a few potions or philters. And she was a very good cook. She would often cook for the two of them, unless it was one of the several nights they had with the other mages. She also favored destruction spells, and was obviously a master at restoration, considering the hole in his chest that she mended.

He heard the soft jingle of coins and spotted _ok kest_ rummaging in an iron safe.

She stood, a few more of the gold coins sliding into the leather pouch. “Here.” She handed him the coin purse.

He took one of the coins out. He didn’t look to closely at them when she handed him the gold in Windhelm. “What even is the currency?” he eyed the coin, on one side there was a head of a man in a crown, a sunburst behind him. When he flipped it over, there was a dragon shaped like a diamond, also with a sunburst.

“Most of the Nords I noticed call it ‘gold’ but it’s the Septim, named after Tiber Septim.”

He hummed. “He was an ambitious man. What he did only a _Dovahkiin_ could have accomplished.”

“I sometimes wonder if it was the best thing to accomplish.”

He glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.

“It was a bloody campaign, and the Empire was fractured and broken after the last Septim died. There’s been so much bloodshed and suffering since then, and for what? A few hundred years of rocky peace that was broken more than a few times? All for what? The glory of living under one banner?”

“You sound as if you’ve had to give this argument before.”

“I just don’t see the point of it all. The Thalmor are doing nothing but ensuring the destruction of my people. If an army marched to the Isles, they’d burn it to the ground. And it will happen, one day. Likely even in our lifetime.”

“For someone with the soul of a _dov_ , you do not seem as ambitious or even cruel as others have been.”

“You mean like you? And Talos? And the dragons?”

He was silent for a beat. “ _Geh_.”

“As far as I can tell, I’m the only Dragonborn that’s ever been a woman. A true Dragonborn anyway. I don’t think St. Alessia was like us. Maybe, maybe that’s why I’m Dragonborn and not one of my brothers, or anyone else.”

“You are the only female _dov._ It would make sense that you are different than us.”

She paused in her packing. “Was that why you said you didn’t want to hurt me? That first time we met in person?”

He mulled over his response. “Partially. Had you been a man, I think the call to a challenge would have been great to ignore. But- you are also _Dovahkiin_ , and that intrigued me simply because never had two of our kind conversed before.”

She nodded. “Thank you for letting me speak that day. And for you trusting me.”

“Against my better judgement.”

She looked up at him from across the bed. “What made you trust me then?”

Miraak froze. It was not a question he expected. He was silent for a while, looking away from her. Finally, he spoke. “You said that I was the only other being alive that knew what it was like.”

He looked up and caught her gaze. Her violet eyes never ceased to ensnare him.

“I’m glad you’re here now. It’s where you belong, not locked up in a Daedric realm.” She resumed her packing, her movements slow, unrushed, and methodical.

“I-“ he stopped himself. ” _Mal kest_.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For doing what you did, for pulling me from Apocrypha, for saving my life.”

She looked up at him again, a soft smile on her lips. Miraak was struck with the desire to kiss her in that moment, a soft smile on her face, her eyes alight with life and warmth. The feeling caught him off guard, and he shoved it down.

“Of course, darling. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

* * *

When they ventured over the bridge, which was in the process of being repaired before winter set in, Cara and Miraak fell into step with one another, walking down the snow-filled streets of Winterhold. This was the first time since they had returned that Miraak had stepped outside the walls of the College.

“What happened to this village?” he asked.

“The locals think the College did it, but it’s was likely a combination of the eruption of Red Mountain and tempest that plagued the cliffs for weeks that made half the town collapse. This used to be the capital of Skyrim, before.”

“And they blame your College?”

“It was really one of the only things to survive. But it wasn’t the College’s fault. Magic was woven into its foundations. It will likely take something far stronger to drag it into the sea.”

They reached the general store, Cara leading Miraak inside.

“Good morning, Birna!”

“Oh, Carawen, it’s good to see you. Stocking up before heading back out again?”

The elf fished a small piece of parchment from her robes, and handed it to the Nord. “Yes, actually, I’ll be needing everything on here, if you have it.”

The Nord read over the list for a moment. “I have most of this, but some of it you might have to stop in a larger city for. Where are you headed to?”

“A ruin not far from Windhelm and then on to Solitude.”

“Clear across Skyrim? You’ll be gone a good while then.”

“Several weeks, at the very least.”

“At least the roads should be clear, since the Dragonborn got the Stormcloaks and Empire to stop fighting.”

“Yes, hopefully there won’t be much of an issue traveling.” The Nord’s eyes traveled over to Miraak. “A new traveling companion? That Teldryn is something else, let me tell you. He’s been keeping Dagur busy.”

“Yes, he’s a new Master at the College. He’s helping me in some barrow research.”

“Well, be careful. You’re my best customer. I’d hate to lose you.” She joked, as she started to collect the things on the list.

It took a few moments, but soon both Cara and Miraak’s packs had their supplies in them. The elf paid, bid Birna goodbye, and left her shop.

“You would think that the people here would leave, considering there is hardly a village here.”

“The ones that do live here likely don’t have the money to leave. And honestly, even since the city collapsed, if but a few dozen moved here, the economy would improve vastly.”

“Perhaps.”

They walked at a leisure pace, not in a rush to get back to the College.

“Will you be safe returning to Hiinzahaad?” Miraak questioned.

“Hiinzahaad? Oh, you mean Windhelm? Is that the old name for it?”

He nodded.

“Interesting. Anyway, yes I will be. While Nurelion sent the letter to the Archmage, the Dragonborn is who will be walking through the gates to Windhelm. You just make sure you stay close when we go to his shop.”

“You are acting like what happened wasn’t an issue.” He stopped walking, they were just inside the first arch to the bridge.

“It is an issue, but the guards won’t attack me in broad daylight in the middle of the market. Last time I thought I was careful, but I was alone, in the Grey Quarter, and I wasn’t going to kill them unless they forced my hand. Killing a few guards over a couple broken ribs, a bloody nose and split lip would have made the issue _so much worse_.”

“I, see your point.”

She nodded.

“But know this, _mal kest_.” A gloved hand rested under her chin. “I had a lapse in judgement. It will not happen again.”

“I know, and I know you didn’t really mean any harm. I was just angry.”

“As you should have been. I would have.”

Her mitten-covered hand took hold of the hand under her jaw and tugged him along. “Come on, it’s freezing out here and we still have some packing to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo the archmage's quarters are way bigger they are in game. They look the same, but behind the privacy wall, behind the little alchemy garden the living quarters are much bigger, because the hall of the elements is much bigger. There's an actual bedroom and walls and all that mess.  
> Also! I play ESO (rarely) so my idea of Summerset comes from the aesthetic of the Summerset dlc. The Welkynar are supposed to only have 4 members, one for each direction, but the idea of only 4 people to guard the whole ass island of Alinor seemed kinda silly so it's a legion of 400, 100 battlemages for each direction.
> 
> Keizaal- Skyrim


	9. Wundun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Bear to the Wolf, they will go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The next several chapter are likely to be longer, so they might take a bit longer to get out! Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title translation - Travel

“Are you sure this is the cave?”

“ _Geh, mal kest,_ I am very certain this is the cave the Phial rests in.”

The mouth to the cave was wider than others she had been in, and much to Cara’s dismay, the temperature seemed to drop a little. Her fingers and toes were freezing. Sometimes, she really did hate living in Skyrim.

“There’s likely to be something very unfriendly living in this cave.” She whispered to the dragon priest.

He was right behind her, his mask on. “I would be surprised if there wasn’t.” he also kept his voice low. Cara shivered. She told herself it was because she was cold.

They crept as quietly as they could through the crunching snow and ice of the cave, wincing at how loud they were being.

A dim white-blue light formed in her hands, which she released, letting the energy wash over her. Then, there was only one set of feet making noise. Miraak copied her actions.

The sound of cracking and hissing ice met their ears as they turned the corner, an ice wraith had made this cave its home then.

A ball of fire in hand, Cara tossed it at the wraith, the creature dying with a pained scream.

On the other side of the larger chamber they found themselves in, the entrance to some old Nordic ruins sat, the heavy iron door frosted over, even iced over in some places.

With a whispered shout to make sure there were no more creatures nearby, both Cara and Miraak worked on unthawing the door.

“There will likely be many traps protecting the Phial.”

She pulled down the dark grey scarf covering her mouth and nose, a smirk on her lips. “I’d be disappointed if there wasn’t.”

* * *

“Hold a moment,” Cara gently grabbed Miraak’s shoulder. Her eyes peering into the darkness beyond the swinging axes. The light that was hovering near them only gave so much light in the pitch-black crypt. “There’s a sarcophagus in the middle of the next room, on a raised platform. I can’t see the far end, so the room looks large. We should be careful. We’re likely in for a fight.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Mer and beast folk have enhanced eyesight in the dark.”

“Hm, I see. And how do you plan on getting past those axes?”

Cara studied them for a moment. Only two of them. Won’t be hard then.

“Stand back a moment.” Cara took a few steps back and waited.

“ _Mal kest_ , you are not going to-“

_“Wuld!”_

She launched herself down the hall, sliding under the blades.

“-run straight through.”

“No, I slid under them.” She pulled the chain on the wall next to hall, and the blades slowed to a stop.

Miraak quickly followed down the hall, throwing a large magelight in front of him, illuminating the dark room.

It stayed quiet.

“That was reckless, _mal kest_.”

“It’s only reckless if you’re not certain it will work. Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve done that. Not even the tenth.”

Cara was certain Miraak rolled his eyes under his mask.

“Now, lets see if we’re close to the Phial-“

As she took a step further into the room, the lid on the sarcophagus in front of them was thrown off, a very angry looking draugr climbing out. More from the walls clambered out of their resting places as well. 

Before the draugr could even stand, Cara Shouted.

_“Tiid Klo Ul!”_

Miraak had reached for his sword, but now his body was moving slowly, but his mind wasn’t. Everything in the chamber but Cara had slowed, and he saw her charge a spell, a near-blinding white light settling into a large ring around them, before forming a magical barrier.

Time resumed, Miraak drew his sword, an ice spell in his other hand as he lunged at the closest draugr. The second the undead touched the barrier, it screamed and staggered away, burns covering it. The dragon priest quickly dispatched it.

The strongest one, which they guessed was likely Curalmil, advanced on Cara, hardly noticing the burns that was licking at its form.

Miraak turned, saw her deeply inhale, but beat her to it.

“ _Ven Gaar Nos!”_

The cyclone sent the draugr flying and whipped and pulled at Cara’s robes. She glanced at him lighting arching off her fingertips, the bolts flying from one draugr to another.

Soon, the room became silent once more, with a final thud as the last draugr fell.

Miraak sheathed his sword, Cara coming at his side.

“A warning next time, _mal kest¸_ before you decide to slow time.”

“Sorry,” she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m usually either alone or with someone who is used to it. I just reacted.”

“I understand. The spell you cast needed the time, and was impressive, even.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Bane of the Undead. It’s a challenging spell, but can turn a battle in your favor if against draugr or vampires.”

A dull chanting met her ears. She looked around, spotting a word wall above them.

“A word wall?” She climbed the rough-hewed stairs to the large carved wall.

Lights danced around her, her fingertips resting on a word.

“ _Aus.”_

“Suffer.” Miraak stood behind her. “The last of the words for ‘Marked for Death’.”

“Too bad I’m missing the second.”

“ _Lun.”_

“ _Lun.”_ She repeated. “Leech. _Krii lun aus._ Kill leech suffer. How quaint.”

“It is not a quaint shout, _mal kest_. You can strike a man down with three words.”

She turned to face him, something unreadable in her eyes. “Not a power I ever intended to have, ever.”

He cupped her jaw. “It is not a power you ever have to use, _mal kest_.”

She thought for a moment, looking up at him. She wished his mask gone, that she could see his face, his eyes. “That Shout you used earlier, what was it? I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Cyclone. Perhaps I’ll teach it to you.”

Her gloved hand came to rest on his gloved hand, and it never ceased to amaze them how electrifying their touch was to one another. “Perhaps?” A smirk on her lips.

“I cannot share _all_ my secrets, _mal kest_.”

“Trade for trade? I can show you some spells you probably don’t even know.” She stepped away but didn’t release his hand, leading them back down to the metal door on under the ledge they had just been on.

“I spent four thousand years learning now-lost magics. What do you know that I don’t?”

“Two other languages, for one.”

Ah, he had her there.

“I’ll think about it.”

She released his hand, pushing the door open. Glancing over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him, a small smile on her lip. “Let’s get this Phial so we can get to Solitude.”

* * *

A mile or so from the Windhelm, Miraak glanced over to see _ok kest_ twisted sideways and rummaging through her saddlebags of her horse, the same one that Balgruuf gave her. While he was glad he now had his own steed, he found himself missing being so close to her.

She let out a small noise of victory, drawing his attention towards her fully. The sun’s light caught a gold mask, with tusks protruding from it. It couldn’t be-

“ _Mal kest,_ is that what I think it is?

“What do you think it is?” she gave him a cheeky smile. She was in remarkable spirits, considering how close they were to what he assumed was her least favorite place to be.

“It looks like a mask you should not have.”

Her face fell. “I’m sorry, it was careless for me to not realize that this would likely anger you-“

“I’m not angry, _mal kest_. I just don’t understand how you found this. It was sealed away, only all the priests together can unlock the magic guarding Konarik.”

“Just the masks, which I found. It took a while, but I got them all, and found this.”

“Warlord. In times of war, the priests would choose one of their own to lead over them, even over the First Mage, though the very few times its ever been used, the First Mage was usually the receiver of the mask. I only know of once where it wasn’t.”

“What was the one time?”

He looked away, over the mountains in the distance. “Vahlok. The priests gave Konarik to Vahlok to help him kill me.”

“Oh, I see. I’m sorry. Here, you can have it-“

He waved her off. “ _Niid_. The priests are dead, and you earned the mask by defeating Alduin. It is yours.”

“As long as you’re sure.” She secured the mask, pulling her hood up and securing it as well.

He grunted his affirmation, eyes never leaving the road in front of them, his own mask keeping the harsh wind off of his face.

As the bridge to Windhelm, he looked over at her, his breath catching in his throat. While he knew that Vahlok was long dead, _ok kest_ now wore the same expressionless mask that almost sent him to his death.

_“You will die a traitor’s death, Miraak. You, and any of the heretics that come after you.”_

_“How weak you must be, to call upon a deyra to help you?” His sword was at his throat, his mask lie shattered in the frozen sand a few yards away, blood running down his face where the broken mask dug into his skin. “You are not worthy to call me your brother.”_

“-aak? Darling?”

He shook his head, his thoughts clearing. _Ok kest_ was looking at him, from the ground, the reins in one hand, her pack over the other shoulder.

He quickly slid down from the horse and untied his pack from the back of the saddle. They handed their horses over to a stable hand, a wide-eyed young Dunmer boy that stared at _ok kest_ like she hung the stars in the sky. He knew, that under the mask, she was smiling at the boy.

“Here you go, we’ll be back in a few hours to collect them.”

“Of- of course, M’lady Dragonborn.”

This time, as they walked into the city, _ok kest_ held her head high, and walked with all the regality and grace he would expect from someone of noble birth. Any guard they passed either gave a slight bow or crossed a fist over their chest.” When at the city gates, a guard spoke to them, to her.

“Dragonborn, we had no idea you were coming-“

“Tell Ulfric I have no interest in dining with him tonight. Or ever. We are only staying to finish business and then leaving.”

“Oh, right, I will let the Jarl know right away, M’lady.”

Miraak stepped in close as they walked into the city, his voice low. “Care to explain?”

She sighed. “Ulfric has told his guards that anytime the Dragonborn enters the city that they extend and invitation for dinner. I always decline.”

They ducked into a snow-filled alley near the alchemy shop and removed their mask, before entering the shop to deliver the bad news.

The old elf was upset that his life’s work was for naught. He blamed _ok kest_ , which he nearly spoke up, but stayed quiet when she spoke to the _fahliil_ in her mother tongue, and he seemed more understanding, but still upset.

His apprentice handed her a pouch of coins and thanked them both.

They left after, hiding away to a secluded corner once more to don their masks to leave the city as quickly as possible.

“Why do we not stay the night? It is getting dark quickly.”

“Because despite the respect I now have here, I’m not staying here again. Kynesgrove is up the road a ways. We can stay there tonight.”

“As you wish.”

* * *

Their journey to Solitude was quiet for the most part, if not long and more than tiring. Miraak had forgotten what it was like riding for so long all day, for weeks. The warmer summer days were filled with companionable conversation, though _ok kest_ did most of the talking.

“I think I figured out a fair trade, knowledge for knowledge. And it’s one you can’t refuse.”

“And?”

“And, you teach me more about the _Thu’um_ , and I teach you how to be a functioning adult.”

“I’m over four thousand years old, I think I qualify as a functioning adult.”

“Except you don’t know how to cook at all, or darn your socks, or how to skin a hare.”

“I never needed to know those things. I had servants to do it for me.”

“My point exactly. I’m not your servant, I’m not going to do everything for you. So, my proposal stands. And if you refuse, I _will_ not be fixing any holes you get in your socks. _Ever_.”

He was silent, though he cut his dark eyes over to her, a smug smile on her face.

“Fine.”

She turned to look at him, their horses trotting side by side. Her smug look turned into a triumphant smile. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“Only because you will bother me until I accept.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m pulling your teeth out. I’m certain you’re a far harsher teacher than I will me.”

Of that, he had no doubt.

While he _was_ patient, he had to be, when it came to many other aspects, namely instructing, he was a harsh master.

The lesser priests that worked under him were quick to learn how he had things done. He hadn’t yet reached the age, before his failed rebellion, before Vahlok and Mora, where he would have taken an Apprentice, like he and Vahlok were to Morokei. Dukaan and Zahkriisos to Ahzidal.

He would have been like the old man, he suspected, if not harsher, less on quiet reprimands. He did not tolerate failure. But she was strong willed, he knew that before he even knew she was _Dovahkiin_. She would not fail him.

He told her that he would mentor her when they returned to the College for the winter, but she insisted he learn how to ‘be a functioning adult’ while they were traveling.

When Solitude came into view from the distance, he was relieved. Finally, he could get out of the saddle.

The city was strange to him. It seemed old, it even felt old, but this city did not exist when he last walked Tamriel.

Cara had opted to enter the city as the Dragonborn, so they had both donned their masks.

He walked at her side though the city, as people called out to her, _ok kest_ waving to them and greeting them. It wasn’t much unlike that of the reception she had in Windhelm, but it still intrigued him. She was a friend to the people, it was obvious. Nord, and non-Nord alike.

When the crowd grew thicker in the market, which was loud and chaotic, he felt her grab his arm, and link it with hers. Many of the townsfolk openly stared at them, the famed masked Dragonborn and this tall, large, masked man that was with her. He followed her lead, not knowing where she was taking him. She said they were going to the ‘Temple of the Divines’

She led them up a hill and into a small courtyard, which had people preparing things, what looked like a wedding.

“Oh! Dragonborn!”

 _Ok kest_ turned her attention to the woman that called to her.

“Hello, Vittoria. How is your wedding planning going? It looks like it will be soon.”

“Yes, actually its going wonderfully. It’s going to be late tomorrow afternoon, with the festivities going through the night.”

“That’s wonderful, I’m so happy for you.”

Miraak could tell by her voice that her words were genuine.

“Will you be staying in the city that long? I would be honored to have the Dragonborn as the guest of honor at my wedding.”

“We will be, yes, but I’m afraid this is all we have, in terms of wedding attire it’s hardly befitting of the occasion.”

“I don’t care what you wear, just the idea that the legendary hero, a real dragon-slayer, at my wedding? It will be the talk of Skyim for months, if not years.”

“ _Dreh hi hahdrim?_ ” she asked him.

_“Niid, fod Zu fen.”_

“We’ll be happy to attend your wedding, Vittoria.”

The other woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you, this means so much.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then, for your big day.”

“Have a wonderful rest of your day, Dragonborn.”

 _Ok kest_ led him towards two large doors, and they entered.

The inside of the stone building was smoky from the burning of incense, and the smell soon washed over him. He felt calmer, in a small way. There were several people milling about, a robed woman spotting them and weaving through the wooden benches.

“Dragonborn, have you come to pay respects to the gods?”

“In a way, yes. I need to speak to the head priest, if he is around?”

She smiled. “My husband is just over here, if you would follow me.”

“Rorlund, the Dragonborn is here to see you.” The balding Nord faced them at his wife’s voice, who then left them.

Miraak regarded the small shrines with disinterest. How grand of a temple could this be if their shrines are as small as they are?

“What is it you need help with, Dragonborn?”

“Is it possible to go somewhere a little more private to speak?”

He nodded. “Certainly, yes.”

He led them to small room off the main chapel.

“My companion here, he was trapped in a daedric realm, and it’s done something to his eyes, we were wondering if you could cleanse them?”

The priest looked at him, trepidation in his eyes. “If you would remove your mask, please?”

Miraak did as he was asked, watching the reaction the priest made carefully.

“I have never seen such a thing before, but yes, I think I can help.” He rubbed his hands together.

“You will have to sit and pray to Akatosh, and if He finds you worthy of cleansing, He will clean your soul of the stain of the Daedric realms.”

“Danica Pure-Spring did all she could before. I don’t see how praying will help.” _Ok kest_ told him.

“If he is still unclean after praying here, to Akatosh, then he likely has some larger sin that is causing this.”

Miraak rolled his eyes. “ _Zu fen praal ahrk draal, to nii fen dreh nid._ ”

He went to replace his mask but the priest stopped him. “You must be bare-faced before the gods, if you wish them to cleanse you of your sins.

The dragon priest fixed his dark gaze on the other priest, who was shifted in his seat, not looking at him.

“Well, best get to it then.” _Ok kest_ said, breaking the tension. Miraak, mask in hand, returned to the chapel, and kneeled in the middle of the semi-circle of shrines, closed his eyes, and prayed to a god he did not believe in.

He felt the air shift around him, and his eyes shot open. The world had turned gold, bright white light mingling in, nearly blinding him. A figure stood before him, clad in brilliant golden armor. He looked up, searching for a face.

“Hello my son.” The figure looked down at him, a small smile on his face. He was an elf, his skin a brilliant gold, far deeper than _ok kest_. His hair was white, though it shined as if lit by the sun, a crown made of sunlight on his brow. He was older, crows feet at the corners of his silver eyes.

“Who are you?” Miraak stood, taking a few steps back.

“Many have taken to calling me Akatosh, but I am Auri-El.”

Miraak turned, only to see that _ok kest_ was frozen in time.

“She does not know I am here. I will speak to her, in time. I fear she is too volatile in her affections for you. But for now, I speak with you, my firstborn mortal son.”

“What do you want.”

“I will cleanse you of the lingering magics of Hermaeus Mora’s taint. With all traces of his physical influence gone, you can begin anew, in this life she has given you, as by design.”

“As by design?” Miraak couldn’t stop the anger from leeching into his voice. Didn’t want to.

“You are angry, I understand. It pained me to leave you in Apocrypha for so long, to endure what you did. It brought me no joy. But you had to be safeguarded through the ages, so that the First and Last could meet.”

Rage seethed off of the dragon priest.

“Miraak, you understand that the greater destiny could not be ignored. We Aedra have no physical forms, we gave up much of our energy to create Mundus. We cannot interfere like the Daedra can. So we have to pull at the strings of Fate, and send champions, like you, like Carawen.”

“That still doesn’t excuse how you left me to rot in Apocrypha.”

The god sighed. “It does not. And it does not make up for what you have been through, but it will at least guard you from the trials to come.” He held out his hand, and light swirled and formed, taking the shape of a white-gold blade. “Here. The Blade of Auri-El. Wield it well and with purpose, and it will always strike true.”

Hesitantly, Miraak took the sword.

“Farewell, my son. We will speak again.” The god began to glow, and Miraak shielded his eyes from the intense glow.

When he reopened them, he was kneeling in the same position he had been in, the blade across his lap.

“Miraak, darling? Are you-“

She stopped herself, one hand coming to cup his jaw. “Your eyes-“

“Are they clean?”

“They’re like the Sea of Ghosts after the summer thaw. I couldn’t really see it before but now – now they’re crystal clear.” One gloved hand rested on his jaw. Gently, he took his mask out of her other hand, forcing her out of the almost trance-like state she was in.

He gripped the sword in his lap.

“Where did you get a glowing golden sword?”

“I-“

A bloodcurdling scream interrupted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I'm kinda using real lore and kinda not when it comes to the Aedra and all that jazz, so sorry not sorry its not accurate to the convoluted and never-completely-accurate-anyway Elder Scrolls lore. 
> 
> I am also not sorry for the cliffhanger lmao.
> 
> Wuld- the first word to the Whirlwind Sprint shout, meaning 'whirlwind'  
> Tiid Klo Ul- Slow Time shout, meaning 'time sand eternity'  
> Ven Gaar Nos- Cyclone shout, meaning 'wind unleash strike'  
> Dreh hi hahdrim - Do you mind  
> Fod Zu fen - If I must  
> Zu fen praal ahrk draal, to nii fen dreh nid - I will sit and pray, though it will do nothing


	10. Reyliik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wolf Queen is awake, a wedding takes place, and Cara hears some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's a longer chapter,,, there's quite a bit that happens in this one, and it's pretty dialogue-heavy. Also! Just five chapters left in this thing! I finally came up with a series title but I highkey might change it idk. Anyway, I just want to say a huge thank you to all the people that like this mess, and take the time out of their day to read it! It honestly means so much to me. Y'all are the best! 
> 
> Chapter title translation - Heritage

Miraak wasted no time, he drew the golden sword from its sheath and spun to face the direction of the scream. One of the priestesses had screamed, but it was a man, dressed like a merchant that clutched at his chest, crimson blooming in a striking line.

A draugr reared back, intending to finish the man off.

“ _Zun Haal Viik!_ ”

Miraak’s Voice boomed through temple, wrenching the sword from the undead’s hand, when a bright white-gold light shot past him, and the draugr collapsed with a groan, still smoldering. When another past the threshold, he felt magic once again behind him, and a barrier slammed down on the doorway, the draugr caught it in burning and then collapsing with a resounding thud.

 _Ok kest_ brushed passed him, keeling at the wounded man’s side. Miraak quickly replaced his mask, and stood vigilant by the warded door, several more of the undead now stuck behind the magical barrier.

A blue-green light formed in his hand, and washed over him, faint ghostly scales settling over him.

“Am I going to die?” the wounded man asked, sniveling.

“No, you’re going to be fine. I’ve healed far worse wounds than this.”

Distantly, he heard her speak to the man, words of comfort, small things to keep his mind off of the pain while she healed the gaping wound that split his chest.

Miraak, meanwhile watched the undead pace. He tested the barrier by gently running his gloved fingertips over her magic. The barrier was solid, and if he tried to throw magic through it, it would likely shatter it.

He thought for a quick moment, before fire twirled around his fingers. He spotted where he wanted the rune, and cast it, the unsuspecting undead dying quickly.

Turning, and sheathing the sword, he saw that the man was healed, but a blubbering mess. Miraak quickly attached his new sword on his other hip.

“Thank you, Dragonborn.” She helped the man to his feet.

“Of course. But you all should leave, and send some of the guard in-“

As if summoned by her words, several members of the guard burst into the temple.

“Dragonborn! We heard a Shout! Is everything alright?”

“It is now, Captain. This man was attacked by a draugr, but they’ve been taken care of.”

Confusion washed over the dark-haired Nord’s face. “Draugr in the temple?”

“They came from the rooms below, my companion and I will investigate, but keep some guards posted here just in case.”

“Be careful, Dragonborn.”

“I always am.”

* * *

They crept through the winding corridors of rooms, undead being quickly dispatched.

“Potema has to be the cause of this.” Cara muttered.

“I recognize the name.”

“The Wolf Queen? There’s been more than a few books written about her. It was, actually about a year ago now, when I stopped a group of necromancers from resurrecting her. When her spirit dissipated after I stopped the ritual, I thought that was it, but now I’m starting to think she was released anyway. Had we not been there, at that moment, those draugr would have slaughtered everyone in that temple.”

“You could not have known, _mal kest_.”

“I should have been more vigilant. I should have been able to feel her presence linger.”

“If it has taken a year for her to manifest any measure of power, then there was likely not enough magic of her for you to detect. Especially if a ritual was interrupted, magic would have permeated the area, even one attuned to magic like I would have missed it.”

She was quiet, not speaking as they moved through several rooms.

“Even an honest mistake with the best on intentions, can lead to people dying for no reason.”

She was in front of him a few paces, he gently grabbed her wrist, and forced her to look back at him.

“You cannot save them all. To try is to lose yourself in either madness or grief.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I’m dwelling on it. Let’s go deal with Potema then have a drink at the Skeever.”

* * *

When they finally, _finally_ defeated the endless waves of resurrected draugr, all the while dodging bolts of lightning and energy coming off of Potema’s spirit, and when Cara had the Wolf Queen’s skull safely in her pack, could they take a moment to breathe, though the stagnate air was hardly improving their mood.

She rummaged through a chest, pulling out a sword and an axe, taking them with her.

“What use do you have for a sword and axe? You don’t even carry a weapon.”

“Captain Aldis could use them. They’re enchanted and not rusted, so it’s good steel.” They came to a metal door, Cara pushed it open a bit, the cool mountain air blowing in. “And I don’t fight with a weapon because I don’t know how to. Martial training wasn’t something that was taught to me. And many of the mages at the University don’t use them either.”

“You should not rely on your magic and will alone, _mal kest_. One day a sword might be all you have to defend yourself.”

“Then we can add martial training to the list of things you’ll have to show me then.” She pushed the door open fully, and they found themselves on the steep cliff overlooking the road up to Solitude. The sun was just disappearing over the far mountains.

“I hate jumping off cliffs.” Cara remarked, distaste evident in her voice.

“It’s also not a hobby of mine.”

“It makes my teeth rattle.”

“And your knees ache.” he added.

“Well, I would love a hot bath and a bed, so let’s get it done. Falk and Aldis will like to know their city isn’t about to be assaulted by a centuries-old Septim and her army of the undead.”

“ _Feim Zii Gron!”_ She leaped off the cliff, landing with a harsh thud and a small poof of dust. The elf looked up at the dragon priest and took a few steps back. She heard his Thu’um echo through the mountains as he landed next to her.

The Shout wore off just a few short moments later, their corporeal forms returning, and startling a few guards as they neared the city again.

* * *

The Dragonborns wove their way through the city once more, which was still rather lively even after sundown, especially with the news that the Temple of the Divines was attacked by draugr from the catacombs below the city. When they made it to the Blue Palace, Falk, Elisif, and several other courtiers were having their dinner.

“I’m sorry to intrude on your meal, my Lords, my Ladies, my Jarl.” Cara gave a small curtsey.

Falk rose from his chair and led them out of the dining hall.

“What happened? Was it Potema?”

“It was, I’m afraid. But I have what’s left of her remains. They should be cleansed, or burned, or even locked in an iron box and dropped in the Sea of Ghosts.”

“Take them to Styrr, he’s the head priest of Arkay in the Hall of the Dead. He should be able to cleanse them, so that Potema cannot rise again.”

“We’ll go do that then, the sooner this is done the better.”

“When you are, come, stay at the Blue Palace for as long as you will be in Solitude. Jarl Elisif and I, nay, the whole city owe you and your friend here a debt of gratitude.”

“Thank you Falk, we graciously accept.” They left quickly.

“Crawling through an undead-infested hole is _not_ what I had planned today. I’m exhausted.”

“As am I, _mal kest_.”

“I just want a hot bath and to sleep all day tomorrow.”

“You have prior commitments.” Though staying in bed all day sounded like a dream to the priest.

“Ugh. At least Nord weddings are usually short and sweet. Though Imperial weddings are a bit more long winded….” She trailed off. “They’re still not near as long as Aldmeri weddings.”

“How long can a wedding possibly go on for? The festivities I understand, but the ceremony?”

“Then remind me to never take you to an Aldmeri wedding. The ceremony lasts for _days_. And I’m not jesting, either. Especially if it’s between two distinguished noble houses, it can last an entire week.”

“ _Why?_ ”

They were nearing the Hall of the Dead.

“Because there are so many ceremonies both families have to perform before the actual wedding can take place. Then there are the ceremonies that happen _after_ the couple is finally married. It’s all pomp and circumstance and tradition.”

Cara knocked on the heavy wooden door. A few moments later an elderly man opened the door.

“Dragonborn? What is you need at this hour?”

“I have the Wolf Queen’s remains you need to bless. Falk sent me.”

“Was she behind the undead in the Temple?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How fortunate it was that you were there then. Here, come in, come in, both of you.”

Cara dug in her bag for the skull and handed it to the priest.

“I can feel the evil coming off of this. You were right in bringing it here.”

“It’s been giving me the worst headache since I touched it.”

“Thank you, my dear. May Arkay bless you both.”

“Thank you, Auri-el guide you.”

They left, but Cara stopped for a moment and leaned against the door.

“ _Mal kest?_ ”

“I’m fine, just a little lightheaded. I’m starving and tired, and the skull didn’t help much.”

“Come, you can eat and sleep in late tomorrow.”

“You mean _we_ can sleep in late tomorrow.”

“Yes, we can both sleep in late tomorrow.”

* * *

Cara woke when she felt Miraak shift beside her, trying to reclaim the arm she was currently using as a pillow. Aside from when she gets too cold, they would often fall asleep close, but more times than not they woke, closely pressed to one another, Cara either mostly laying on his chest or Miraak holding her tightly to him.

They didn’t speak about it. Cara could feel how conflicted he was.

Not many people knew about her sensitivity to other’s emotions. She suspected it was why she was, as others had said, a gifted healer.

He shifted again, and she could tell he was trying not to wake her. Feigning sleep, she moved so he could reclaim his arm and leave the bed, though she wished he wouldn’t.

She would blame her affections for him based on their continued proximity; they saw each other every day, most of the day, for several months now, even sleeping in the same bed. But she knew that wasn’t the case.

Since that first meeting, since she first heard his deep, entrancing baritone enter her head, she had been enamored by him.

He shuffled around the room, she heard him wash his face in the basin and comb through his long hair. Soft metallic clinking softly echoed through the room, and then she heard the scratch of a razor on skin.

He never seemed to let his stubble grow out too long, she noticed. It likely made his mask uncomfortable to wear or not fit right.

Cara lay in bed, wishing to fall back asleep but knowing it was a futile effort. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. It was time to get up. There were things to do.

She sat up, tossing the furs to one side. Miraak turned when he heard her move.

“ _Pruzah feyl, mal kest_.”

She stretched and yawned. “Good morning, darling.” He turned back to the mirror and continued his work.

That was new. He never told her good morning.

Standing, she ran her fingers though her hair, it had come unbound at some point through the night. She walked around the bed and grabbed her brush out of her pack and stood next to him at the mirror, and began the process of bushing out her long hair and rebraiding it.

“Why keep it so long if you only ever keep it out of the way?” He asked, his clear blue-grey eyes catching hers in her reflection. Cara didn’t think she’d get used to his clear eyes. They were so intense. 

“I like it long, and its an Altmer thing, I suppose. You won’t find many of us that have short hair.”

“It’s a cultural thing, then.”

“I never thought of it that way, but I suppose it is.”

They were both silent as they finished their morning routines.

When Cara was tugging on her boots, she noticed Miraak buckling on his swordbelt, sans one new sword.

“You never did tell me how you got that sword.”

He glanced back at it’s resting place by his pack. “Auri-el gifted to me.”

Here eyes widened in shock. “You- _What_? _Auri-el_ , the _god_ , gave you that sword.”

“He said ‘It does not make up for what you have been through, but it will at least guard you from the trials to come’.”

“He spoke to you?”

Miraak’s brows knitted together. “He hasn’t spoken to you?” While the god had said he hadn’t spoken to her, he just thought that meant recently, not at all.

_I fear she is too volatile in her affections for you._

“No, the Aedra don’t speak to mortals, _ever_. And He gave you that blade? I can’t even imagine how powerful it must be.”

“I don’t care. I’m not using it.”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “Why not? There are only probably a small handful of artifacts that exist that could be considered ‘divine’, why not use the one given to you?”

His jaw clenched, his gaze turned icy. “I done being the plaything of gods and monsters. I’m not going to fall into another trap of servitude. I am my own master.”

She felt his rapid mood shift. She approached him, resting her hand on his chest. “I know you are. That was- I’m sorry I didn’t think about that, how that must feel.”

One of his hands came to rest on her hand on his chest.

“He said He would speak with you, though I do not know when.”

“Good. I want to give him a piece of my mind.”

_I fear she is too volatile in her affections for you._

The ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I look forward to it, _mal kest_.”

* * *

While they wore their masks out of the Blue Palace, the soon ducked into an alley and removed them, Cara wanting to get the shopping she needed done before Vittoria’s wedding later that afternoon.

“What do you get a woman that can buy whatever she wants for her wedding?” The elf asked out loud.

“Something she cannot buy.”

She glanced up at him, she was mostly musing out loud, so she didn’t expect Miraak to answer.

“Yes but I doubt she’d be interested in some priceless artifact from a culture that’s not hers.”

“Why must you get her something at all?”

“Did you not give the wedding couple gifts in the cult?”

“ _Geh,_ but they were useful things. Iron, tools, food, cloth.”

“Vittoria already has a manor, and money to buy the rest of those. What did you get a wealthy couple?”

“Nothing. If they were fortunate enough to be so prosperous under the cult, then _they_ bought gifts for their guests.”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it. Even still, I can’t show up with nothing. Which brings me to my next point. Vittoria said what we had was fine, but after weeks of traveling and wading through as much undead as we did yesterday,” she looked him up and down, then gestured to herself, “We need to look a bit more presentable, since we’re likely to be the guests of honor.”

“ _You_ will be the guest of honor, _mal kest_. They do not know me.”

“That merchant has probably told everyone in the city how you saved his life, and that you can Shout. Half the city probably could have heard that, and it sounds _very_ different from mine.”

“And half the city has heard your _Thu’um?_ ”

“No, but I’ve been told it echoes far across the marsh and can be heard clear as day at the docks.”

“Your _Thu’um_ is impressive, _mal kest_.”

“It’s not like yours, though.”

Cara thought he walked just a little taller at her words.

“You have only known you were _Dovahkiin_ for how long?”

“About three years.”

“And I have had four thousand.” He glanced down at her, she was always so close to him when then entered the cities. Even now, her arm was linked with his, though she did not press herself into him in an attempt to make herself smaller like in Windhelm, rather it was companionable. From the outside, it likely looked even more than that. “You will learn, in time. I can show you far more than the Greybeards could ever teach you.”

“They’re an admirable order, they do as they can, and as they know how. But,”

He waited for her to finish, glancing down and meeting her eyes for a second.

“But I don’t know how Parthunaax can stand it, sitting on the mountain all day, meditating.”

She felt him stiffen beside her.

“Parthunaax yet lives?”

“He taught man the _Thu’um_. He worked against Alduin, in the end. Then he watched over where Alduin would return, since the Dragon Wars. He was the only living dragon for thousands of years.”

“Strange then how he and a few others razed my Temple to the ground.”

“Who were the others?”

“Odahviing, and a few of his subordinates.”

“And if I told you Parthunaax follows the Way of the Voice? And that Odahviing is actually the one that helped me defeat Alduin?”

He turned his clear blue eyes to her. “Then I would say you are foolish to trust either of them. They are _dov_ it is in their nature to betray you.”

“Are we not as well? You put your faith in me, and yet I didn’t betray you. You didn’t betray me. You were healed far before I was. It would have been easy to kill me. You had your freedom.”

They had stopped walking, the market and city bustling around them.

He cupped her jaw, tilting her head towards him.

“I owe you my life, _mal kest_. I will never harm you.”

“Just because I saved your life?” her voice was quiet, he barely heard it over the sounds of the city around them.

“No, not just because you saved my life.”

“Then why?”

He said nothing for a long moment. “Would you?”

“No.” there was no hesitation in her reply.

“Then neither would I. Perhaps your compassion has rubbed off on me.”

She quirked a dark eyebrow up. “Come on, let’s get back to it.”

* * *

Cara entered the shop, Miraak not far behind her. The bolts of cloth on the racks, doublets and clothing either hung or folded neatly on the shelves. The light smell of burning incense sent Cara back home to Summerset, to the lavender and poppy fields, to the fresh smell of the sea.

The Altmer standing at the counter writing looked up at the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

Her expression was one of disdain, until she saw Cara, that is.

“Oh! Carawen! How are you? It’s been a while since you’ve been in Solitude.”

She smiled at the other elf. “I am well, Taarie. How are you and your sister?”

The Altmer’s copper-colored eyes flickered to Miraak, before slipping into Aldmeris. “Erikur keeps raising the rent. We’re honestly about to cut our losses and go back to Summerset. The Nords don’t appreciate fashion.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, if you do decide to leave, please, let me know. I’d at least like to send you a goodbye letter.”

“Business isn’t as good as we thought it would be. Maybe try the Imperial City. Or even Wayrest.”

“I hear Wayrest is lovely.”

Cara felt Miraak shift behind her, irritation evident. She slipped back into the common tongue.

“Not to change the subject, but we actually need some more formal clothes than the robes we have. The Jarl asked for myself and my companion here to dine with her this evening.”

“It’s not everyday the Jarl gets to dine with the Archmage. What were you thinking, a dress? A nice new tunic?”

“Tunic, preferably. As much as I miss dresses they’re terribly impracticable for much of the year here.”

Taarie scrutinized her a bit, “I have just the perfect one.”

“With, a high collar, and full sleeves.”

The other elf glanced back at the Atmoran at Cara’s side, before slipping back into Aldmeris.

“I mean, he’s not _my_ type, but you should try something less, _Altmer tradition_ if you want him to get the hint.”

Cara felt her ears and cheeks grow warm. “It’s not like that-“

Taarie smirked. “Sure it isn’t.” She slipped back into common. “I’ll have to go find something then, since it’s so short notice. You look good in purples, and blues. I’ll see what I have.”

* * *

It took longer than she had hoped to find something that Miraak would fit into, and even then he still complained it was too tight across the shoulders, but alterations could not be made in such a short amount of time.

Cara was still at a loss of what to gift Vittoria, which was becoming a problem. She had a pouch of gems on her, ones she had found in Potema’s tomb. She supposed that she could give those as a present, even though Vittoria had more than enough money.

But, it was better than nothing and she supposed that would do.

Running short on time to get be presentable for the wedding, they hurried back to the Blue Palace, changing quickly, and Cara was thankful she was able to have a nice long, and hot soak in the tub the night previous, as she quickly laced up the front of her new tunic, a deep blue with gold embroidery of flora common to Skyrim. She pulled on her leather gloves and secured Konarik, pulling up the hood after the familiar weight of the mask settled over her. Not an inch of her gold-tanned skin showing.

Miraak looked wonderful in purple, as Taarie had helpfully mentioned. The different heights of the velvet of his tunic shimmered and glittered with each movement he made as he too donned his mask and hood.

While Cara was normally much more well dressed for an event like this, it was such short notice, that she had to settle.

They, along with many of the residents of the Blue Palace, the Jarl included, were escorted to the Temple of the Divines by armed guards.

Cara and Miraak chose to sit at the back of the Temple, which was thankfully absent of draugr, while the ceremony was conducted.

It seemed like half the city was in attendance to the wedding, which meant the entire city was like to partake in the feasting afterwards.

Just as Cara suspected, the ceremony was rather short, Vittoria seemed to opt to have a mostly-Nordic wedding, with some parts akin to her Imperial heritage.

It was rather beautiful, and Cara was struck with the realization that this was the first wedding she had attended in the better part of a decade.

The couple moved outside, two ornately-carved wooden chairs seated on the far end of the courtyard, when Vittoria and Asgeir spoke to the gathered crowd.

“Honored guests, I just wanted to take this time to thank you all for being here. To thank you for sharing this wonderfully happy day with myself, and my new husband.”

Cara and Miraak stood, again at the back of the crowd, when movement caught the corner of her eye, up above on the ramparts.

The figure was right above Vittoria, pushing on the statute that overlooked the balcony the newly-weds were.

The statue dropped, Cara caching it mid-air with a spell. She grunted at the weight of the heavy stone, Vittoria and several others letting out a scream.

“Miraak- assassin, up there- go.” She said through gritted teeth.

_“Mul Qah Diiv!”_

The force of his shout nearly made Cara lose her grip on the stone, which thankfully Vittoria and Asgeir had moved off the balcony, so she let the stone land with a thud.

* * *

It had been at least a millennia since Miraak last stretched the ghostly wings that now protruded from his back.

With a flap of the ghostly wings, he was airborne, sword drawn, and quickly closing in on the would-be assassin.

Ice irrupted from his hands, blocking off the exit the assassin was barreling towards. They stopped, looking over the edge and thinking for a second about jumping, knowing that they would likely suffer from at least a broken leg, if not worse.

With the might of his aspect around him, Miraak knew he was a terrifying sight to behold, and the assassin decided to take their chances with fate and the fall, only for Miraak to grab them by the back of their armor and throw them to the ground. He held Chillrend to the assassin’s throat.

“To murder a woman at her own wedding? Such cowardice.” His voice echoed off everything an nothing, thunder rumbled very distantly across the landscape.

He felt _ok kest_ behind him, and heard the clamoring of armor and the glide of swords leaving sheaths with her.

 _Ok kest_ came to his side, looking down at the assassin,

“Why does the Dark Brotherhood want them dead?” she asked, her voice calm.

“The same reason you are needed dead, _Dragonborn_. Someone prayed to Sithis. Someone performed the Sacrament. Someone wants you dead.”

“Aldis, take them into custody, they can be interrogated later.”

“There won’t be a later.” The assassin drew a knife and plunged it into their heart.

“No!” Cara lunged, trying to get to them, but Miraak grabbed her arm.

“Hail… Sithis…” their words were nearly lost on the wind, but not to Cara’s elven ears.

“They took their own life.” she whispered. Miraak could picture her face, as hidden as it was, but it was one of shock.

“A coward’s way, _mal kest_.” He wrapped an arm around her, holding her to him.

“Not the best outcome, but at least justice was done.” Aldis stated, shock evident on his features as well. “And thanks to you, uh, Dragonborn and her companion.”

 _“Zu’u Dovahkiin._ ”

“Miraak is also Dragonborn, Captain. He was the First.”

* * *

The city was abuzz the next several days they stayed in Solitude, scarcely leaving their shared room, both so they wouldn’t be bombarded by people, the second so they could sleep in, read, and relax.

Cara questioned Miraak _endlessly_ about the shout he used, how it gave him ghostly dragon wings, a ghostly dragon form, how it worked, and when he told her about how he had created the shout, more questions then came.

Cara spent much of her time meditating, meditation on the shout he called ‘dragon aspect’ so that she could master it as well.

Miraak watched her meditate. He could not remember the last time he meditated on his own _dov_ , on his own _Thu’um_. It was far too dangerous to meditate in Apocrypha, the creatures of Mora’s would hunt him, or Mora grow bored and need some amusement. He did not give the Prince the satisfaction of being caught that unawares.

He tried to meditate several times in the relative quiet of their room, but his mind would not clear. His thoughts kept getting pulled back to her, _ok kest_.

Everything about her invaded his mind. Every day, he woke to find her either curled to him, him holding her close, or just near him. Her sent filled his nostrils, lavender, the spices from the teas she drank, the slight smell of a thunderstorm. Her voice filled his ears, light and melodic, her accent strange to him, though of the few other Altmer he had met, her accent matched theirs. Her visage was always with him, always close. Her vibrant eyes, the eyes that ensnared him, were so expressive, always so full of compassion. Her smile lifted his spirits, even if his stone-faced façade never cracked. Her touch was intoxicating. Scorching and soothing all at once, their souls calling for blood and also beckoning towards one another. Miraak didn’t like to be touched. He didn’t touch others, as that would invite them to touch him. Yet he made the exception for her. It was likely their not-there bond of being _Dovahkiin_. She was free with her touch, with her affections. Hugging friends, giving reassuring touches and squeezes. She was a kind soul, which confused him the most, as her soul is that of a _dov_ , and could not be kind by its very nature.

Miraak knew that at some point, he would have to leave her, to go off on his own and pursue something worthy of his abilities, talents, and knowledge. But the more he thought about it, an unfamiliar pain seemed to spike in his chest, at the thought of not doing whatever he would do, without her.

He had a feeling he knew what this was. He wouldn’t even think it to himself. It couldn’t happen.

As they rode down the road, towards Whiterun, the sun just starting to set, the last golden rays bathing the valley in light, Miraak was struck speechless at just how beautiful she was, the light making her golden skin glow, not unlike Auri-el’s, and her raven hair shine like silk.

He found himself wanting to kiss her again.

“So, it looks like we can make it to Rorikstead tonight, we can stay at the inn there, and then probably get to Whiterun just after nightfall tomorrow if we push it.”

He was shaken from his thoughts by her voice.

“Come again?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m boring you _so_ terribly.”

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated for a split second. “It’s nothing. What did you say?”

“I said, that if we wanted to stop in Rorikstead, and if we pushed it tomorrow, we could get to Whiterun by nightfall.”

“I have no complaints about an uninterrupted sleep.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

It was another few miles before they came upon the little village, and they stopped at the inn.

 _Ok kest_ was acquainted with the innkeep, as well as his son, and handed over the coin for their room and their dinner for the evening.

The older man set their plates in front of them.

“So, any news in Whiterun since I’ve been gone?” She asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I overheard one of the guards that was patrolling the roads tell Rorik that Kodlak Whitemane got killed by some bandits yesterday. Right in the hall of Jorrvaskr too.”

Miraak’s eyes snapped to her.

She was frozen, her eyes wide. Her fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the wooden plate.

She was still for what seemed like an age, like she was processing the innkeep’s words, before standing so abruptly she knocked the stool over.

“We’re leaving, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOO we're ignoring like, most of eso's plot and shit. Especially Elsweyr that shit is just pandering to ppl that know 0 lore and want to fight dragons like in Skyrim but with their buddies. So all the dragons died way before that late into the second era, considering the dragonguard is nowhere to be found??? (i havent played the dlc because im not spending money on that when im not gonna play it lmao) but yeah like its just,,, bothering me. The canon for this is the Akaviri dragonguard wiped out all the dragons that were left in the first era. 
> 
> I also have a lot of Thoughts on the dragon aspect shout. Some of those thoughts include flight and spectral wings if one has mastered the shout like our boy has.
> 
> Also kinda a cliffhanger? Also not sorry for that one.
> 
> Zun Haal Viik - Disarm shout, meaning 'weapon hand defeat'  
> Fiem Zii Gron - Become Ethereal shout meaning 'fate spirit bind'  
> Pruzah feyl - good morning  
> Mul qah diiv - dragon aspect shout, meaning 'strength armor wyrm'


	11. Nahkriin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, and a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four more chapters! I'm going to try and get chapter 12 up before next Thursday, as that's when I leave to go back to school, and after that it might be a bit slower on the updates, since I have a heavy work-load for the quarter (it is senior year after all!!) But! I WILL finish this fic before the end of the year, and I'm gonna try and get this done before the quarter really sets in and I loose all time. And I have many sequels and other shorter fics planned after this one!!
> 
> I didn't edit this so if there's mistakes lmao my bad but I'm tired and I wanted this to get posted. 
> 
> Chapter title translation - Vengeance

They road hard through the night.

Miraak was exhausted and starving, the jerky and hard cheese he managed to dig out of his pack the only thing he could eat.

He offered her some, but she ignored him, her eyes fixed on the road in front of them, saying nothing the entire way to the hold capital.

The reached the Western Watchtower just after dawn broke, and they hurried to the city gates.

She practically ran through the streets, Miraak trailing behind her.

Taking the steps two at a time, she threw herself at the doors of Jorrvaskr, opening them.

They were greeted with the drawing of swords, axes, and bows, but the Companions lowered their weapons as they recognized the two of them.

“Cara-“

“Where’s Kodlak?” it was the first words she’d spoken in hours, her voice threatened to break.

“He’s dead.” A red-haired archer said softly.

The tears that were threating to fall from her eyes spilled over, Farkas stepping over to her, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“He was _murdered_.” Vilkas spat.

Miraak stood vigilant, _ok kestro_ soft cries reaching his ears, his fingers itching to reach out to her, to comfort her, though he was terrible at it. A spike of jealousy surged through him, but he quickly snuffed it out. They were long time friends, sharing in grief. Jealousy was unwanted and unneeded here.

She pulled away from the Companion, wiping her tears. “Who did this?” she asked, her voice not as shaky as Miraak would have thought it would have been.

“The Silver Hand.” A Nord, one that Miraak did recognized said.

“We’re going to deal with them. To avenge Kodlak.” Vilkas said, his voice laced with venom.

_Ok kest_ stood taller. “Good. I’m going with you.”

“No you’re not.” Vilkas told her, his dark eyes boring into the elf.

“He was like a father to me, Vilkas. _You don’t get to tell me no._ ” her _Thu’um_ making the building rumble, barely restrained anger making her body ridged and her voice struggle to contain its power.

She took a deep, shuttering breath. “When are we leaving?”

The archer placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “In a few hours. You look exhausted my friend, get some sleep in the bunks downstairs. I’ll wake you before we leave.”

The elf gave a weak nod. “Thank you, Aela.”

Miraak silently followed her down the stairs, noticing her glance up at what looked like an empty placard.

The room she led him to was larger, several beds and chests taking up space in the group sleeping space.

They both methodically got half-ready to sleep, mostly just pulling off their boots and cloaks and first layer or so. Miraak settled into a corner bed, _ok kest_ taking the bed a few feet from his.

He laid down, but noticed she was still sitting up, staring at the floor.

“You need to rest, _mal kest_.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

They had been up for over twenty-four hours at this point.

He sat up, his back to the stone wall, as he adjusted the pillow at the small of his back. “ _Meyz het_.”

She stared at him for a second, before crossing the short distance and adjusting herself on the bed with him.

She was mostly lying down, though it was mostly on top of him. The bed wasn’t built for a seven-foot tall Atmoran, and Cara barely fit on it as well.

He wrapped his arms around her. “ _Bo wah laag, Zu fen kos het._ ”

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, exhaustion creeping into his very bones. A few hours wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing at this point.

He knew that the rest of the day would likely be trying at best.

* * *

Aela, true to her word, woke them a few hours later. They got ready quickly, restocking on some provisions.

Before they left, Cara pulled Aela to the side.

“Can I have a vial of your blood?”

The red-haired Nord’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“In case I have need of it. It’s not for me, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Cara could tell the other woman was skeptical at best, but pulled out her knife anyway. Cara dug in her pack until she found an empty bottle, and handed to Aela, who sliced her arm and let the blood drip into the vial.

Once there was enough, Cara ran a gentle healing spell over the wound, and aside from the smeared blood, it was like it never happened.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you intend to do with it, but just be careful.”

“I intend on making the bastard that murdered Kodlak _pay_.”

* * *

The journey to the hideout was fast, mostly silent, and tense.

Miraak had never seen her act like this before, and he supposed he was likely to not again. Her father figure had not only died, but was murdered.

He recalled when Morokei had died, how he and Vahlok dealt with their grief so differently.

Vahlok grieved, but never in public, instead he focused and turned his grief into positives to those under his rule. For Miraak, aside from his brother, he no longer had any strong ties to the cult. He could not disappoint someone who was dead. There was no possible way that his dragon masters would send Morokei to deal with his problem child.

The others weren’t mages, so he knew they could not sense the brewing storm under her skin.

Miraak found it difficult to even sleep near her, her magic and rage that was threatening to boil over making his hair stand on end.

It was even overcast the whole way there, though Miraak could spot clear skies not far out from where they traveled. So they had to be coming from her.

Such raw power, to just dissipate and change the heavens as to not _explode_ , was impressive, even to him.

When he first approached her in her dreams, after she shook his hold on her mind, he felt her magic, how deep her reserves went. He was not without great skill; he wasn’t idle in Apocrypha after all.

But while he had a precise and measured control, and deep reserves of magicka, there was no doubt in his mind that her raw magical power surpassed his. He knew she came from a long like of powerful mages, she had even made offhand comments about it before, but he had a feeling much of it was just _her_. That her power was her own, regardless of her lineage.

They approached the ruined fort, far enough away that they could hide the horses in the treeline and not be spotted, when she finally spoke after days of near-silence.

“You all stay here, guard the outside in case any come out. I’m going in alone.”

“Cara you’re not going in alone. This isnt’t just your fight.” Vilkas said, stepping closer to her in an failed attempt to intimidate her into changing her mind.

She looked at him, a coldness in her eyes that Miraak had never seen before.

“Vilkas, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed the stormclouds following us from Whiterun, but that’s me. My magic. I know you want vengeance. You loved him too, we all did. But you will get hurt, even killed if you charge in there. Let me go.”

The atmosphere changed, and Miraak felt his shoulder ache, as it did when it was going to storm.

Vilkas and _ok kest_ stared at one another, neither backing down.

Farkas grabbed his twin’s shoulder, breaking the standoff.

“Maybe we should listen to her, as much as I want them to pay for the old man’s death, letting her handle it might be best.”

“I don’t like this.” The other Nord ground out.

“I don’t think any of us do.” Aela commented. “But they can’t hurt her like they can us. There’s no need for more of us to end up dead.”

“Thank you, Aela.”

She secured Konahrik, pulled up her hood, and walked past the trees, Miraak following into step beside her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice lacking all the warmth he had come to know.

“You’re not going in there alone.”

“Did you not just hear a word I just said?”

“ _Mal kest_ , I can ward myself from your magic. Your mind is clouded, you need someone to watch your back.”

Miraak thought himself skilled in bring able to read others while their face was behind a mask, and she was no different. Her body language told all he needed to know about how she was feeling. She was hiding behind the mask, he knew. The mask of a dragon priest was meant to hide one’s emotions, meant to inspire fear from others, for the masses could not see the face of their fellow humans, their oppressors.

“I do not need to be looked after like a child.” She stepped away, but Miraak grabbed her arm.

“I’m not looking after you like a child. I’m making sure you don’t get killed because you make a stupid mistake clouded by rage and grief.” He spoke from experience, whether she knew or not.

Some of the tension diffused from her shoulders. She looked to the ruined fort in the distance, the energy around her crackling.

“Make sure it’s a good ward.”

* * *

As they approached the fort, the air shifted and before he knew it, _ok kest_ was cloaked in lightning. Miraak took a few steps away, and cast dragonskin, a ward ready should he need it.

Their adversaries shouted the alarm when they saw them, more her, coming, firing arrows, several coming out of the ruined archway to face her at melee range.

Explosive lightning shot and arched from her fingertips, scorching them, reaching even the archers on the ruined battlements.

They fell without a fight.

Moving through the bowels of the fort was much as it was outside, though the darkness and close spaces made the light blinding, and her magic arc dangerously off the stone walls.

Miraak stayed silent behind her, witnessing the devastation of her wrath.

He didn’t think her capable of such… _ferocity_.

She was stubborn, yes. And ferocious? In her own way. But not like this. The massacre he was witnessing was on par to something he was capable of, would do, has _done_.

The entered what looked to be the last room of the fort, and immediately a dozen of fighters descended on them. She made short work of them, but left one of them, their leader Miraak surmised, alive.

“ _You_. _You’re the leader, aren’t you.”_ Her Voice made the room shake.

“Your time will come, you wolf-blooded bitch.” The man was gasping, bleeding from his wounds she had inflicted.

She leaned in close, pulling out a vial of something. “ _I’m no wolf, naas. I am a dragon. And you will face a dragon’s wrath.”_

She uncorked the bottle, and forced him to drink its contents. Stepping back, they watched as he coughed and sputtered, an animalistic growl tearing through his throat.

“NO! You- you couldn’t have-“

Miraak saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. “You killed my father. You have tortured and killed without mercy. You deserve a fate fitting of what you reaped.”

Miraak watched, not in horror, but close to it as the man started to change.

She had forced him to become a werewolf.

“ _Krii Lun Aus!”_

The man stilled without so much as a whimper.

She turned and bushed past him, scooped up some metal fragments into a pouch, and headed back up to the entrance to the fort.

_“Mal kest._ ” He called. She kept walking from him.

Miraak regarded the leader. He suspected they were werewolf hunters after they found themselves in a torture room, a captive but nearly dead werewolf in a cell and several laying in corners, dead, with clear signs of torture.

When the ill-fated leader called her a wolf-blood bitch, he was certain then. But he knew she was not a werewolf, she couldn’t be. She would have told him, right?

That also meant that the Companions, at least the ones that they had traveled with, were werewolves. The thought unsettled him. They were servants to a Prince, unwilling or unknowing or not.

Which her actions surprised him in more ways that one.

They had spoken before, about how she was not cruel like the dragons. Like he was.

Had he not known better, he wouldn’t believe that she was even _Dovahkiin_.

But the ruined fort, filled with blood, bodies, and destruction, was proof that she _was_ a _dovah_. Her vengeance was swift, brutal.

Miraak carefully made his way back through the fort, and back into the morning.

* * *

It had begun to softy rain, the clouds that had been following them finally releasing their rain.

He found her there, in the middle of the courtyard, her mask in one hand. He stood next to her, silent.

She sniffled, causing him to look down at her.

“What have I done?” her voice was quiet and sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, the complete opposite of what it was just a few moments before.

She looked up at him, her violet eyes filled with tears threatening to spill. “I condemned a man’s soul to torment for eternity. I slaughtered them all with the wave of a hand. I’m- I’m a monster.” Her voice cracked and broke on the last word, and her legs buckled. Miraak caught her, the dull thud of the mask hitting the dirt.

He pulled her close, bearing her weight as he supported her. He held her tight against his chest, one large gloved hand cradling her head against his shoulder and let her cry.

He did not think her a monster. These people got what they deserved. Her punishment for the man that killed her father figure, he wanted to agree with. It was a fitting end, especially for someone that killed a man that seemed as good natured as _ok kest_. But he had spent the last four thousand years as a Prince’s plaything, and he shuttered to think about how Hircine was now using the soul of a man that killed his loyal beasts. The man would likely be hunted and tortured for rest of time. But he would keep his thoughts to himself. She was fragile right now. Miraak was terrible with emotions, with comforting. But he found himself caring about her too much to comment on her actions when they were filled by rage and grief, and when there was a time long ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to dish out punishments befitting that of what she did.

He was unsure how long they stood there, the rain falling, the sounds of her cries. Eventually, their traveling companions approached them.

Her back was to them, but Miraak looked up at them at their approached, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed Vilkas bristle ever so little at the Atmoran.

“What happened-“ Vilkas asked, but Miraak shook his head.

“ _Mal kest, mu fend daal wah jaald.”_ His voice was quiet, meant for her to hear.

She nodded, standing fully back on her own feet. Bending down to pick up her fallen mask, she wiped some of the mud off of it, before wordlessly turning and slowly walking back to their camp.

* * *

Kodlak’s funeral was scheduled the day after they returned. The city mourned one of its most beloved people, the guards skeptical of any and all unfamiliar faces, stopping those they did not recognize and keeping a closer eye on them.

Miraak was growing concerned for _ok kest_ , as she hardly spoke or ate anything since Driftshade.

They were staying at an inn near the market, though she didn’t leave their room once they returned to the city.

He wanted to say something, anything to try and comfort her, but he couldn’t find the words. Anything he thought of wasn’t the right thing to say, so he said nothing. He just held her close as she slept.

When it was time, she dressed in the tunic she had bought in Solitude. She left her hair unbraided for once, only half pulled up and out of her face, her pointed ears peaking through her dark tresses.

Side by side, they climbed the steps to the Skyforge. Distantly in his memory, he recalled the forge being here, even before the village was, and after the dragons burned it. It looked as if it was carved a few decades ago, not well over four thousand years.

There were others behind them, but they joined the crowd that were gathered around the forge. Vilkas approached them.

“You should stand with us, with the Circle.”

“I’m not one of you, Vilkas.”

“You’re part of the Companions whether official or not. He would want you to be with us.”

“I’ve never been to a Nord funeral before.”

“We’ll do the rites.”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I want to honor him, but you don’t want Aldmeri funeral rights at a Nord’s funeral.”

A large, gauntleted hand rested on her shoulder. “Kodlak wouldn’t care. You loved him. Honor him how you would your father.”

She nodded, and glanced to Miraak.

“I’ll be here, _mal kest_.”

She left his side, standing closest to the forge with the rest of the Circle.

They waited a few more moments before and older man stepped forward. “Who will start?”

Aela spoke up. “I’ll do it.” she paused. “Before the ancient flame.”

The crowd spoke in unison. “We grieve.”

Skjor spoke next. “At his loss.”

“We weep.”

Vilkas spoke. “For the fallen.”

“We shout.”

Farkas was last to speak. “And for ourselves.”

“We take our leave.”

The voices of the crowd echoed across the space, the city strangely silent.

Aela stepped forward, torch in hand, and lit the pyre.

After a moment, he heard singing.

It was _ok kest_. Her voice was quiet at first, but became louder after a few notes.

Her voice was unlike anything he had heard before. Haunting, melodic, clear and strong. She sung in Aldmeris, what he assumed was a dirge of her people. 

Miraak stood off to the side, near the stairs. He could see her face. She stared at the ground, silent tears running down her cheeks.

When her song was done, silence pressed in on the forge, the only sounds being that of roaring fire.

The old man that started the rites approached the forge, a leather sack in his hand.

“By using the fires of his funeral pyre, I will make Wuuthrad whole once more.”

Those in attendance began to disperse, and Miraak came to her side.

Skjor spoke to the circle. “We will retreat to the Underforge, if you would join us, Cara.”

She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “No, thank you Skjor. I would much rather be alone right now.”

Farkas stepped forward, but she turned and started for the stairs, Miraak trailing after her.

* * *

She walked quickly to the Bannered Mare, the dragon priest trailing behind her. She very nearly closed their room door in his face, but he caught it, closing and locking the door.

“I want to be alone right now. Please, just- just go.” Her back was to him.

“ _Mal kest-“_

“Please, Miraak.” Her shoulders trembled. He took the few steps to close the distance between them, offering his embrace. If she denied him, he would go.

She reached out, her hands coming to grab his tunic, pulling him close to her. Miraak wrapped her in his embrace.

He was distressed to see her so distressed, which in turn made him question so many things about himself.

He didn’t care about others.

He shouldn’t care that she was upset.

But he did.

He cared very much that she was upset.

He couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ admit to himself that he cared about her as deeply as he felt.

For now, he would just be content on holding her close, letting her grieve, and being there to help her through it as best he could.

He shifted his hold on her, and scooped her up into his arms, one arm around her waist, the other tucked under her knees as he settled himself on the bed, and sat her in his lap, his arms coming to encircle her again.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, long after her tears dried, his fingers lightly brushing through her hair. 

Eventually, he felt her breathing slow, and when he glanced down at her, which was rather difficult as her head was tucked under his chin, she was fast asleep.

Moving wasn’t an option, so he too, attempted to sleep, and after a while, he too joined her in slumber.

* * *

Half a week later, Cara had mostly returned to her normal self. She smiled less, when she did it was often forced and strained. Her and Miraak spent much of their time either in Dragonsreach or in Jorrvaskr.

They were preparing dinner one evening when Eorland strode into the hall, an intact Wuuthrad in his hands.

“I would speak to the Circle in the Underforge.”

Cara was seated at the table, along with Aela and Skjor, the latter two rose, Aela gesturing for Cara to follow them.

When they entered the Underforge, Vilkas and Farkas was already there, both panting and sweaty, obviously had been training in the courtyard before.

“As you can see, I have reforged Wuuthrad. Kodlak told me that you suspected it was the key to Ysgramor’s Tomb, Carawen.”

“The old man said there was a fire, ever burning in the tomb that could cure the Companion’s lycanthropy, provided we had a witch’s head.” Vilkas stated.

“Good thing we do.” Farkas added.

“So we go to Ysgramor’s Tomb? Can we even cure Kodlak’s lycanthropy?” Cara asked.

“You are not like us, maybe if you throw the head in the fire it will work? We have to try.”

The elf nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to see this through, for him. When do we leave?”

“In the morning?” Skjor offered. “The quicker we get this done the better. It’s been weeks since his death. Weeks being in Hircine’s hunting grounds.”

“Tomorrow it is then.”

* * *

The first days of Frost Fall were approaching as the Circle, Cara, and Miraak made their return to Winterhold after an exhausting several week journey. They stayed at the College a night before making the long trek around the cliffs and out into the Sea of Ghosts.

They procured a longboat, Cara and Miraak using magic to lift it and have it follow them down the steep cliffs.

The seas were choppy, the wind was frigid, but after several hours, they made their way through the ice floes and to the Island that held Ysgramor’s Tomb.

Vilkas was carrying Wuuthrad, and he placed the axe into the empty hands of the statue, the stone door slowly opening. 

Vilkas decided to stay behind, but the rest pressed on.

They were assaulted by ghosts of past Companions, the spirits claiming they had no right to be there, after they tainted their blood like they did.

One by one, the others of the Circle stopped and stayed back, thinking they were unworthy to press on. Skjor handed Cara the ice-enchanted leather sack that contained the witch’s head, and her and Miraak fought through the last of the spirits and frostbite spiders, coming to a brazier that held a blue-green flame.

Cara untied the sack, and pulled out the frozen head, and tossed into the fire.

Suddenly, huge spectral wolf appeared, and attacked.

Between the two master mages, they made short work of the creature, but another took it’s place.

“Kodlak?” Cara asked, her voice hopeful.

The spirt smiled. “Hello my dear.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you again, that I wasn’t there-“

“Hush, child. Nothing of this is your fault. I am speaking to you right now, and that his what matters.”

“We freed your soul, you can go to Sovngarde now.”

“I can feel it, my dear. You did well.”

She smiled at him, though her tears. “You’re going to love it there, Kodlak. Its beautiful.”

He smiled as well. “I’m certain I will. I must go now, but I want you to know that I love you, Carawen. And that I am so proud of everything you’ve done, everything you will do. I hope to see you in Sovngarde one day, just not soon, okay?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I love you too, Kodlak. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, I’ll see you one day again, I promise.”

He smiled at her one last time, and vanished.

* * *

The Circle decided that they would figure out who would lead them after they returned to Whiterun.

They stayed at the College a few days, before saying goodbye to Cara, and even Miraak. It seemed as if the other mages were glad to see the warriors leave.

Miraak noticed a change in her. She wasn’t quite back to her normal self, but she seemed to be happier, now that she had some form of closure with the old man.

Farkas had taken Wuuthrad, they all decided its best place was in Jorrvaskr, not in the tomb where someone could come and take it.

Miraak was glad to be back at the College. He missed the quarters he shared with her, the permanence of them. As glad as he was to be walking Tamriel once more, the amount of traveling they had done over the last month or so had really worn him down. He was almost glad Winter was coming soon, as he knew that this tiny village would likely close up, nothing to be done as the frigid winds and dense snow settled in.

They sat in a companionable silence as _ok kest_ went through letter after letter and missive after missive at her desk, Miraak lounging in a chair, perusing though a book.

“Darling?”

“ _Mal kest?_ ”

“I know we just got back, but are you up for another few adventures before the snows set in?”

The priest rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know how to end this?? So we end on a lighter note, since this chapter was a bit heavy on the emotion. 
> 
> Heyo Cara has a dark side, who knew? Jokes aside this was one event that I wanted to happen since I started this fic, so I hope y'all like it. It was difficult to write tbh. Also Skjor is alive because I said so.  
> Kestro- 'tempest's' apparently there's no canon possessive form of words so we're going with this  
> Meyz het- come here  
> Bo wah laag, Zu fen kos het- Go to sleep, I will be here  
> Naas - corpse


	12. Brahiidorov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quest to repair the Phial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, but the next one I am VERY excited for. :3  
> Chapter title translation - Alchemist (literally 'user of herbs', a word the amazing aureliu_s came up with)

The _Monahven_ dominated the sky above them, reaching endlessly towards the heavens.

“Why again can we not use the horses?” Miraak asked, endlessly dreading how much his knees were going to hurt after climbing _seven thousand steps_ to the peak of the tallest mountain on Tamriel.

“Because the path is too treacherous for them. It’s a pilgrimage, meant to humble those who walk it. I’ve climbed this mountain a dozen times, it’s only bad the first time you walk it.”

“This is the first time I will walk it. Alduin did not let mortals on this mountain, and yet it was where he was defeated in the Dragon War.”

“I can’t imagine how they got to the peak without a path.”

“Ropes, most likely.”

She stood on the first of the seven thousand stone steps carved into the mountain.

“Ready?”

“Since we must, yes.”

* * *

There was nothing more he wanted than a hot soak and to sleep by the time they made it up the mountain.

It took the better part of the day to hike up the mountain, and he was tempted on more than one occasion to summon his dragon aspect and just fly to the peak.

_Ok kest_ was freezing, he knew. Her movements were slower than normal, and he saw a small flame dance in her palms more than once during their trek.

Soon, the stone walls of High Hrothgar came into view, as they climbed the last few steps to the heavy metal doors. They were nearly frozen shut, a testament to how often it was used.

_Ok kest_ yanked on the door, which gave way with a loud metal whine. They both stepped into the old stone building, and out of the cold.

She pulled off her hood and mask, though Miraak left his on. He didn’t want to be here, but he wasn’t going to let her climb the mountain by herself.

A monk in woolen black robes approached them as they walked further into the monastery.

“ _Dovahkiin_ , you have returned to us-“ The old man’s quiet voice was silenced as he took notice of Miraak.

“You have returned to us and brought _him_ here? In this holy place of peace?”

“Master Arngeir, you must believe me when I say that he’s not what you think he is-“

“He has twisted the _Thu’um_ , used it for his own gain, used in service of a Daedric Prince. He is not welcome in High Hrothgar.”

“And Paarthunax was a cruel overlord of men. Both have atoned, or have at least tried to atone for their sins of the past. Do not seek to lecture me like a child, Master, for I am far from one.”

Miraak was surprised she defended him so vehemently against her masters.

“I am merely who I am, _wuth mun_. A _dovah, Dovahkiin_.”

“He will corrupt you, _Dovahkiin_. That is what he does, corrupt. If you walk the path of violence as he does, you will fall as he did.”

Miraak saw three more monks join them, glares and disapproving looks on their faces.

“Slaying Alduin, the sole reason I exist, could not have been done by your pacifist ways. He cannot corrupt me from a path I do not follow.” She sighed. “I did not come here to argue. I came to get some snow from the peak, and then leave.” She pulled her hood up and donned Konahrik. “ _Saraan het, zu fen kos zek das.”_ She told the dragon priest, before climbing the steps opposite of where they entered, and slipped out the metal door.

And so Miraak found himself alone with the four Greybeards.

The other three seemed to not speak, likely because they could not control the power they wielded.

One of the others glared at him, his gaze unwavering.

“Speak what is on your mind, _wuth mun_.” When Miraak was met with silence, he scoffed, crossing his arms. “Of course you can’t. Your Voice is untrained and you can’t control the power you wield.”

“Hold your tongue, _Vodahmin_. Do not speak on things you do not know of.”

“ _Saag ruvaak wah olm._ ” He muttered. “You presume to tell a true master of the _Thu’um_ that he does not know an untrained voice when he sees one?”

“Raw, tainted power is not mastery, _Vodahmin_. You have perverted the Voice into something twisted. You will do that same to the _Dovahkiin_.”

“You think I can corrupt her? Corrupt her voice? You think her will is that weak?”

“She does not follow our ways, so she is susceptible-“

“ _Niid,_ it’s not that.” Miraak paced a few steps, his hands now clasped behind his back. “You think my will stronger than hers, when we are equal. I have seen her thwart my will on Solstheim, even before I knew she was _Dovahkiin_. As a mage, her raw power surpasses my own, though not my knowledge. My _Thu’um_ is stronger yes, but hers is far purer, _new_. Her potential alone makes her stronger than all of us. A so-called _master_ is supposed to have faith in their students. And in her you have none. A pity.”

“You _will_ corrupt her, as you do everything you touch. If you care about her like it seems that you do, though I cannot fathom _you_ of all people caring about anything other than yourself, you will leave her. You will be gone from this world.”

Miraak ceased his pacing, his head bowed, shoulders taught.

“Did you even consider for a moment that the opposite could occur? That her gentle nature has perhaps tempered my anger?”

Arngeir scoffed. “Impossible.”

“Is it?” Miraak asked quietly, mostly to himself.

* * *

A few hours had passed, and Miraak found himself seated on the floor, the cold carved stone to his back, waiting for her to return.

The Greybeards left him, alert, but knowing he would not leave the chamber he was in.

Finally, just as he was about to doze off, the metal door on the far end of the room creaked open, _ok kest_ stepping in from the cold.

Snow was caked onto her clothes, she briskly walked over to him as he stood.

“I got the snow, let's get out of here. By bringing you here we’ve likely overstayed our welcome.”

They quickly left the monastery and began their decent back to Ivarstead. It was getting dark, but they had little choice.

About halfway down, Miraak spoke, the magelights in their hands dancing and reflecting light off their masks. “I wish to tell you something, but you will not like it.”

He saw her shoulders tense. “Are you leaving me?” her voice was small, nearly lost on the howling wind.

“No, _mal strun_. I am not leaving you.”

He saw the tension leave her shoulders. “Storm, huh?” she asked.

“You can summon storm clouds without shouting. It is an impressive feat.”

“A tempest is stronger than a storm, though, no?”

“You are both, _Dovahkiin_. They are worthy titles.”

“You can call me by my name, you know.”

“You should be honored with titles. So I honor you.”

She said nothing for a moment. “What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

He paused. “Your so-called masters think you are weak. That I will lead you down the path of corruption.”

“They said that?”

“The one who speaks said your will was weaker than my own. He has a disgusting lack of faith in you. He didn’t take kindly to my reprimands.”

She shook her head. “They don’t understand. Paarthunax is the only one of the Greybeards that does understand. He’s a dragon, he knows a dragon’s soul. And he understands that the path I walk cannot be one of pacifism. I say I’m a scholar, and I am. I don’t care for fighting. I have much less a problem making a lost ruin safe from skeevers, skeletons, zombies, even liches, but I don’t care for war. For the deaths of those that might not have a choice. But because I raise my hand and Voice for the ending of a life, somehow I am corrupt. They mean well, but their words do not surprise me.”

Miraak still could not believe that the woman before he was _Dovahkiin_. Aside from her _Thu’um_ , she was nothing like a dragon. Had he not witnessed her wrath first-hand, the true wrath of a _dovah_ , he still would find it difficult to believe. “You have a teacher that can show you all that you wish to know about the _Thu’um_ , _mal strun_. You need not concern yourself with them anymore.”

“The Greybeards, the Blades. They just want me to do as they say. After I left Summerset I told myself that I wouldn’t follow anyone’s orders anymore.”

“And you shouldn’t. You are _Dovahkiin_. It is your word they should follow.”

“I’m not a leader, Miraak.”

“You lead your College.”

“Hardly.”

“They follow you, and you say the _dov_ do.”

“They follow me because they have no choice.”

“But you still lead.”

She shook her head. “I just want explore and learn. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Then we will.”

She looked at him, the face of Konahrik staring back at him. A face he’s had to get used to seeing not try to kill him. “We?”

“I will follow you, wherever you go, _mal kest_. You wish to see the world, as do I. Four thousand years is far too long a time to be confined.”

He wished her mask away so he could see her face.

“Then I guess we’ll explore and learn then. We’ll have to plan our trips this winter, get prepared for them.”

Under his mask, a smile touched his lips. “ _Geh_. We should.”

* * *

The ride to Windhelm as almost enjoyable, the fall air refreshing, their hearts lighter than usual.

_Ok kest_ seemed to be in much better spirits than just a few short weeks ago.

“Are we returning to the College for the winter after the phial is repaired?” he asked.

“There’s actually one more thing we need to do. Jarl Idgrod of Morthal sent a letter while we were out, she said that there was a double murder, a woman and her child in town.”

“Isn’t that the guard’s job?”

“Yes, but the only suspect is the husband, and he was accounted for. The issue is that the ghost of the child has been seen roaming the town at night. She’s not hostile, but it’s unsettling the townsfolk, which are already suspicious enough.”

“I could bless the child’s bones, put her to rest.”

“You can do that?”

“I am a priest first, _mal strun._ I was trained to be a priest from a young age. I do not like performing rites for the bodies of children, but it is a necessary thing to do.”

“If we can’t find who did it, or if it was even an accident, then at least we can put the child to rest.”

Miraak’s stomach twisted. Who could harm a child? While he himself wasn’t terribly fond of them, they were precious. They were the future. And for a young life to be snuffed out? And for the child to not be at peace and wander the Void as a spirit? It didn’t sit well with him.

“I do not know where this Morthal is.”

“There’s honestly not much to it. It’s just a small village in the marshes across the river from Solitude.”

“There’s a village in that cursed marsh?”

“I have no idea why they built it there either. I rarely pass though it, only stopping for the night usually. It’s a small village, so we’ll likely be there a day or two before heading back to Winterhold for the winter.”

“What do you plan to do over this winter?”

“Study, clean, translate, teach. You should teach a few classes as well, it would keep you busy at least.”

He mulled it over. She had spoken about that once before already. Perhaps he will.

“Perhaps. I can see how competent your students are.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m certain they we perform to your standards. They’re my students, after all.”

A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. “We’ll have to see about that.”

* * *

“I’m sorry your master couldn’t live to see the phial be repaired.”

Quintus looked down at the relic in his hand. “He died knowing that his research wasn’t in vain, at least. He’d want it to be repaired. And, I think, go to someone that will use it.” he handed the phial to Cara.

Her brows knitted together. “Are you sure? I didn’t even know this existed until Nurelion sent me the letter.”

“The College would make far better use of it than I will. Maybe you can figure out what kind of enchantment is on it, discover a lost art.”

She took the phial in both her hands. “Thank you, Quintus, both I and the College appreciate it. Should you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to send a letter. I can get just about any ingredient.”

“Thank you, Archmage.”

“Take care.”

“You as well.”

They left, Cara stashing the phial in her pack.

“I’m fairly good at enchanting and alchemy, but I think trying to figure out what magic was used on the phial is beyond my skills.”

“You are far more skilled in those areas of magic than I will ever be, _mal kest_. You’ll figure it out.”

She glanced up at him. “Maybe I can show you a few things then.”

“I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miraak drinks his respect women juice send tweet
> 
> Wuth mun - old man  
> Vodahmin - unremembered/forgotten  
> Saag ruvaak wah olm - says the raven to the crow


	13. Vukul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter sent from Morthal, leads to more trouble than originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I get to go back to school after being delayed half a week (only two makeup classes I cant complain that much). Which is good news i guess as I get a few extra days to try and finish the last two chapters!  
> I had this idea super early on while writing this, I'm so glad I could finally get the idea down and I'm actually really loving this chapter.
> 
> Chapter title translation - Vampire (a combination of the words 'night' and 'evil', also made by the amazing aureliu_s)

Miraak decided the moment he laid eyes on Morthal, he wanted to turn his horse around and go back to Winterhold.

The little town was built on the frozen marsh, for what reason he couldn’t fathom. The marshes would be too shallow for any sort of vessel but a fishing boat to dock in the town, and Solitude he knew was right across the marsh, across the river and its port was bustling.

It was late in the afternoon, but the overcast clouds blotted out the sun, making it far darker than it should have been at that hour.

“We don’t need no wizard here! He’s probably the one that killed Helgi and Nefta for some dark ritual!”

A dark-haired Nord stood on the steps to the Jarl’s longhouse. “Falion is just wanting to live here in peace like the rest of us are.”

“Then why isn’t the Jarl doing something about the murders! Any of us could be next!”

 _Ok kest_ urged her horse into a trot, which made the mob turn at the sound of hooves.

“Because the Jarl has asked me to look into it.”

“We don’t need no High Elf bitch to fix our problems. Especially since you look like a mage.” One of the men sneered.

Miraak came beside her, pulling his hood down. “You would do best to watch your tongue, _bron_.”

The men’s eyes went wide at the great mass of the man sitting next to the slight elf.

“Archmage, it’s good that you’ve come. Please, Jarl Idgrod would like to speak with you.”

The group started to disperse, and they dismounted from their horses, tying them to a hitching post outside the longhouse.

For a Jarl of a whole hold, Miraak thought the longhouse was small, and unbefitting of a leader, but then he remembered how small the town outside was, and how this was the largest building in the village.

“Jarl Idgrod, it’s an honor to be at your service.” _Ok kest_ curtsied slightly.

“There’s no need for that dear. I’m glad you came. That spirit is starting to terrorize the town. Something needs to be done about it.”

“We’ll investigate, see if we can get to the bottom of it, if it was an accident or something else. And my friend here,” she gestured to him, “Is a priest. He can put the spirit to rest.”

“Excellent. She’s usually seen at all hours of the night, but not long after dark she seems to stay by the ruins of her old house.”

“We’ll look around while there’s still daylight, then come back after dark.”

“Stay in the inn, have Jonna send me the bill for anything you’ll need.”

“Thank you, Jarl.”

They left, walking the short distance with their horses to the small inn near the longhouse. _Ok kest_ arranged for their room and board, securing their possessions then going back into the town.

“Let’s go talk to this mage they said lived here. He’s likely to have more an idea of what’s going on here than the rest of the town.”

They had to ask the steward where the mage lived, and he pointed them to a small home on the edge of the village.

When _ok kest_ knocked on the door, a little girl no older than 11 answered, her eyes wide.

“Uh, sir, there’s some people at the door.”

A Redguard came up behind the girl. “Go on, Agni, go study.” The girl scurried away.

“What do you want?”

“I’m the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, and the Jarl has asked me to look into the deaths that happened. And that there has been the spirit of a little girl seen running around at night.”

“Come in.” He opened the door wider for them. “So Aren kicked the bucket, huh? About time.”

“He was killed in defense of the College.”

“I used to teach Conjuration and the study of vampires and the undead there. I’m Falion, master wizard.”

“Carawen Direnni.”

His brows rose. “A Direnni? In Skyrim? Why in Dagon’s name are you up here?”

“Savos asked me to teach, and after the issue the College had, and after his death, I became the Archmage.”

“Hopefully you’re doing a better job at running it than Aren did. That’s why I left.”

“Perhaps you would like to come back? See how it’s changed.”

He shook his head. “Agni isn’t old enough yet and I don’t want her at the College anyway. Maybe I’ll come by, see if it’s still being run into the ground.”

Miraak did not know how she took the criticism and insults thrown at her with a stony visage. He was about to say something when he felt her hand on his arm.

“The College would welcome you back with open arms, even if it is just for a short stay. Now, about the task at hand?”

“Best I can say, I don’t think it was an accident. Hroggar started shacking up with Alva the next day after his wife and child burned. I tried to help put out the blaze but it was too much. Fire salts had to have been used with how hot it was.”

She looked pensive. “And the spirit?”

“Helgi, I think her name was. She was younger than Agni, but they still played together when the girl isn’t studying.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Once or twice. She stays by the ruins of her house.”

“And her mother’s spirit hasn’t been seen?”

The mage shook his head. “There’s been distant screaming in the marsh at night, but that’s not exactly new.”

 _Ok kest_ nodded her head. “Thank you, Falion. You’ve been very helpful.”

He grunted. “If that’ll be all? I’m very busy.”

He shooed them out of his house, and they began to walk to the ruins.

“Wait, darling, look.”

She knelt by one of the houses, flowers growing up around it.

“Nightshade?” he asked.

“And Deathbell. Both very poisonous plants, both rather rare, and only grow were there’s been death. They’re all around this house.” She looked up at him, then climbed the steps to the door and knocked.

“Hey, keep it down will ya? Alva is trying to sleep.” A Nord answered the door.

“Are you Hroggar?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“You’re the father and husband of the mother and child that died in that fire, yes?”

He sighed. “Look, I’m devastated they’re gone. But I didn’t kill them. I was in the tavern all night, half the town was there, they know that.”

“I’ve been asked to look into it by the Jarl. Just covering all my bases. Is there any reason Alva is sleeping at this hour? It’ll be dark in a few hours.”

“She works at night.”

“Barmaid?”

“Something like that.”

“Thank you for your time-“ he slammed the door in her face.

She sighed, and they continued walking.

“There’s something off about this, _mal kest_.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one that thinks so. He seemed, hm, not all there? If that makes sense.”

“I agree. And the flowers are suspicious as well.”

“We need to keep an eye on him, and this Alva.”

* * *

The burnt husk of the house was no more than a scorched and slightly melted foundation and some ash.

“No natural fire would have caused the stone to begin to melt like this.” Miraak said, kneeling down, his gloved fingers running over the slight rippling in the otherwise mostly smooth stone.

Cara crouched next to him. “I think Falion is right. This was a magical fire.”

They poked around for a few more minutes, but found nothing but ash.

It was getting dark so they elected to eat their dinner and wait a few hours after sundown before going and looking for the spirit of the girl.

* * *

It was well after dark when they exited the tavern, walking the short distance to the ruined house. The town was very quiet, even quieter than Winterhold was. The tavern was mostly empty, so there was no joyous laughter or townsfolk carrying on, enjoying the end of their day.

They hoisted themselves up onto the foundation, as the stair looked far too damaged to support any weight and waited in silence.

_“Why are you in my house? Mama always said to never let someone strange in the house.”_

They heard the ghostly voice before she manifested, both Cara and Miraak turning their attention to the child’s appearing figure.

Cara took a step forward, crouching down. “Hello there, I’m sorry we’re in your home. We were looking for you. Your father has been worried.”

_“Papa hasn’t been home in a while. I don’t know where he’s at. I can’t find mama either.”_

“Your mother’s not here?”

The girl shook her head.

_“My friend has been looking after me though! She’s really nice.”_

“Where’s your friend at? Can we speak to her?”

_“She doesn’t really like other people, but you can play with us if you want! We like to play hide and seek!”_

“Sure, we’ll play with you.”

_“Yay! I’ll hide, you can count!”_

The spirit vanished, but Cara could still feel her energy nearby.

“Do you feel that, _mal kest_?”

“She’s nearby.” Cara said. “Wait.” She summoned a magelight in her palm. “Look there.”

Miraak squinted in the darkness. “Footprints in the snow?”

“And it just snowed last night, there shouldn’t be someone going back around the house like this.”

They jumped down from the ruined foundation, following the tracks. Cara let her light go out, her vision letting her see enough in the dark, but Miraak kept a small light in his palm.

The tracks led them away from the village and around back a large rock, where it looked to be a cemetery was. Two graves looked new, but one was mostly dug up, a small wooden coffin unearthed.

Cara knelt beside it. “This must be Helgi’s.”

“Her spirit is here.”

Cara tilted her head, and Miraak recognized the movement, she heard something he could not.

He stood still, hardly breathing, but let the magelight float up above them.

She stood and faced out to the marsh, magic pulling at her fingertips. Miraak drew Chillrend, a spell in his left hand.

A woman in leather armor, sword drawn, charged at them.

Miraak jumped in front of Cara, his sword meeting the woman’s. An animalistic snarl was on her face, glowing eyes bright and long fangs bared.

“ _Vukul.”_ Fire irrupted from his hands, forcing the vampire back.

Behind him, he felt her magic pull, and then the whole cemetery was lit up by a white-gold light.

Cara was engulfed in light, and she stood close to him, the warm magic cascading and enveloping him.

“She won’t get close.”

The vampire charged again, Miraak drew in a breath, and Shouted.

_“Fo Krah Diin!”_

His _Thu’um_ thundered and echoed across the marsh, the vampire’s cry swallowed by sound.

While she tried to shield herself from the blizzard that was just thrown at her, the Atmoran advanced, thrusting his sword through the vampire, and she stilled.

A blue-purple spell danced in Cara’s palm. “That’s the only one I can see.” She let her cloaking spell dissipate, the graveyard becoming dark once more.

“Why was a _Vukul_ here?”

“Maybe she’s the friend that Helgi was talking about?”

Cara approached the coffin again, her hand coming to rest on the wood. When she touched it, the spirit appeared before them once more.

_“You found me! Wait, why is- why is my friend laying down?”_

“Your friend was a bad person, Helgi. She tried to hurt us.”

 _“I-“_ the spirit paused, confusion washing over her features. _“There was a fire. I remember now. I tried to get to mama but it was too hot, I couldn’t breathe. Laelette was there, my friend. She said we could play together, that she would be my mama from now on. It got really dark…”_ she trailed off. “ _I’m really tired. I’m gonna sleep for a while now.”_ She vanished.

Cara heard footsteps approaching, Miraak stepped front of Cara, his blade in both hands, ready to defend.

“What’s going on here-“ the man stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the body of the woman just at the edge of the light. He dropped his torch, and fell to his knees at her side. “Laelette, no.” He took her hand in his. “No- no- by the gods!” he dropped her hand, struggling to stand. “She’s- she’s-“

“A vampire, yes. I’m sorry.” Cara said, coming from around Miraak.

“But how did this happen? She’s been gone for weeks, she left to join the Stormcloaks. When I hadn’t heard anything I thought the worse but this, this is far worse.”

“Was she your sister? Wife?”

“She was my wife. I can’t believe this.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about before she left? Was she acting strange at all? Not herself?”

“She hated Alva, but about a week before she left, they were thick as thieves. I have no idea what happened. Then she decided one night she was going to go off and join the Stormcloaks, wouldn’t listen to me. The next morning she was gone.”

“This Alva, is that the same one that Hroggar is staying with?”

His brows knitted together. “Yes, why do you think she has something to do with this?”

Cara turned to Miraak, who had returned his sword to its place at his hip.

“Alva’s house is the one with all the deathbell and nightshade.” Miraak said, crossing his arms.

The other man spoke. “What do flowers have to do with anything?”

“Deathbell and nightshade are rare flowers, they only grow where there’s been death or dead things, that’s why they grow in graveyards and on battlefields. But Alva’s house is surrounded by them.” Cara explained.

“She is likely a _vukul_ , same as this one.” Miraak stated.

“She’s likely the one who turned Laelette.” The elf added.

“You think Alva is a vampire?”

“It’s not the out of the cards. We need to report this to the Jarl.”

“I’ll need to bury the body.”

“ _Vukul_ should be cremated. The possibility of resurrection is too high.” The priest told the man.

The Nord nodded, trying to contain his grief.

Cara and Miraak left the small cemetery, going back the way they came to get back to town. The hour was late now, but Cara felt as if this was an emergency. If they waited until morning, someone else could die, or be turned.

* * *

Much to Cara and Miraak’s annoyance, Idgrod wouldn’t take their educated hunch on Alva’s condition, and they were forced to gather concrete information, if there was any to be had.

“If she asked you here to investigate the murders, you find evidence that points to her, and she won’t listen to you?” the priest fumed.

“Well, we did find who set the fires. It was Laelette, going off of what Helgi said. Alva being involved is just extra at this point.”

“There’s a _vukul_ in a village this small and the Jarl has not dedicated every guard to try and find it?”

“She’s trying not to cause a panic, I’m guessing. So, how do we gather the evidence we need?”

“We lure her into the sun in front of the Jarl.”

“Far easier said than done. Let’s start with her house. She likely has something in there that only a vampire would possess.”

“You want to go into her lair?”

“Not ideal, I know. But it’s dark out, she might be out.”

Across the water, Cara spotted a woman she hadn’t seen before, and it was rather late.

They made the short journey to Alva’s house.

“You keep watch, I’m going to sneak in and see if I can find anything.” Cara whispered, a unlock spell in one hand, invisibility in the other.

“I’m not letting you go in there by yourself, _mal kest_.”

“I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

He searched her face for a moment. “Fine. You have five minutes before I come in after you.”

“I’ll make it quick then.”

She gently unlocked the door with her spell, and cast invisibility.

Slipping quietly though the house, she noticed Hroggar fast asleep in a bed in the corner, but there was only the one bed.

Cara spotted some steep steps that led downward, so she crept down them, and spotted an opened coffin in the center of the room.

She quickly looked around, and found a journal, which was inside the open coffin. Snatching it up, she opened it to the first page, quickly scanning it. It was all the proof she needed; she could read the rest outside, maybe even with the Jarl.

She quickly crept back out the house, and let her spell drop in front of Miraak.

“I sensed you coming.”

“I figured you would. Come, lets get back to the inn.” She waved the journal. “We have some light reading to do.”

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Cara and Miraak rushed into Highmoon Hall.

“A vampire coven, living this close to Morthal, trying to turn us into their slaves? I never saw a vision about this. I can’t believe this.”

“The cave can’t be too far into the marsh, my companion and I will go and look for it and destroy the coven.”

“Take some of the guard, and I’m sure some of the townsfolk will be wanting to defend Morthal as well.”

“With all due respect, Jarl, sending them in there will only get them killed. We’re both skilled mages, and this won’t be the first time I’ve stumbled into a vampire nest. At least this time I won’t be taken by surprise.”

The old woman nodded her head. “You best come back, Archmage.”

“We will, and when we do, your town will be safe again.”

* * *

Both of them underestimated how many vampires were in the caves. While no one was bitten, they were worse for wear when they stumbled back into town. Cara got a particularly nasty scratch down her arm from the leader, a vampire called Movarth. As they walked back through the marsh, Cara healed it, along with some of the scrapes and bruises Miraak had gotten. 

“You should have a weapon because of situations like that, _mal kest_.”

“My magic never fails me. I’m fine.”

“He got too close, you could have been killed, or bitten.”

“I’ve never had any martial training. How was I supposed to learn? The mages at the University don’t fight, and the battlemages are part of the Legion.”

“Pick a weapon to master, _mal kest_ , because I will train you during this coming winter.”

“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it?”

“ _Niid._ It is important you learn how to defend yourself without relying on magic.”

“But you’re a mage too, darling. You’re not a battlemage, you don’t wear armor.”

“But I can wield a sword, _mal kest,_ which is the defining factor here.”

“Ugh fine. You’re going to have to help me figure out a weapon though. I don’t think a sword will do me much good.”

“Perhaps a bladed staff?”

“They’re not terribly common.”

“All the reason to use it. Your opponent won’t know how to guard against it.”

“I don’t relish the idea of _actually_ killing someone up close like that, but I see the logic of it.”

“Then you will start with a staff, and then a bladed staff is no different.”

They made it back to town, where it seemed all the townsfolk were waiting for them.

“Is it done? Are they gone?” one of the men asked.

Cara nodded. “Morthal should be safe from Vampires now.”

“We’ll have a feast to celebrate!”

“Maybe mages aren’t that bad after all.”

The small crowd continued on, people starting to busy themselves with preparation for a town-wide feast.

Cara and Miraak reported back to the Jarl, who handed the elf a rather hefty purse.

For the rest of the day, the town was abuzz with activity, with Cara and Miraak at the center of attention.

As night fell, the tavern and Highmoon hall was full of people, of the several dozen that lived in Morthal. They drank, ate, danced and sang.

Cara and Miraak were the guests of honor, sitting at the high table with the Idgrod and her family.

While the local bard was rather, well, _awful_ , the townsfolk had taken to singing bawdy and drunken ballads.

“ _Mal kest_ , you should sing.” Miraak said to Cara after a particularly loud group finished a rendition of ‘Ragnar the Red’.

“I’m not terribly familiar with Nordic songs.”

Idgrod overheard their conversation, the old woman yelling out over the crowd. “Come now! A song is a song! Let one of the heroes of the hour serenade us with a song!”

The crowd cheered, then went quiet in anticipation, all eyes on the elf.

“I hope you all don’t mind an old song from the Isles.” She joked as she stood from her seat.

She took a breath, and sang.

_“High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Rellae would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most”_

Her voice echoed though hall, the townsfolk enraptured by her voice.

_“The ones who'd been gone for so very long_

_She couldn't remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stone_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave”_

She paused, catching Miraak’s gaze. He gave her the ghost of a smile, which made her smile in turn.

_“They danced through the day and into the night_

_Through the snow that swept through the hall_

_From winter to summer and winter again_

_'Til the walls did crumble and fall”_

_“And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave”_

Her voice crescendoed, the notes carried away and out the open door.

_“High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Rellae would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most”_

Uproarious applause from the townsfolk rang out.

“Your voice is as sweet as honey, my dear.” Idgrod told her as she sat back down.

“Thank you, Jarl Idgrod.”

Miraak leaned in over her shoulder. “I did not mention it before, as it was not the time, but your voice is… _hiraas, mal strun._ ”

Cara suppressed a shiver at his voice in her ear.

“I don’t sing much anymore.” She confessed.

“Why not?”

“I used to growing up, but there’s not been a reason to. I only know Aldmeri songs, and they have no place here.”

“There are songs in _dovahzul_ you can sing.”

“I don’t know any.”

“But I do.”

A wry smile on her lips, she turned in her chair to face him better. “Is this your way of saying you’ll sing for me?”

Cara saw the slight surprise cross his features. “I never said that.”

“But then how will I know the melody? The notes?” she teased. “You’ll have to.”

His eyes narrowed. “If, and only if, you beat me in martial combat.”

“Now that’s just unfair.”

A blond eyebrow quirked up, his arms coming to rest across his chest, a smug look on his face. “Then you’ll have to train hard, only _then_ will I sing for you.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but Miraak saw the blood drain from her face. Cara sat back in her chair.

“I- I all of a sudden don’t feel that well. I’m going to go lay down. I think I’m just exhausted.”

Miraak stood, offering his hand to her.

“I’ll be fine on my own, please, darling, stay and enjoy yourself. I’ll be alright.”

Though he wanted to go with her, he did as she asked, and she slipped out the hall.

* * *

The revelry lasted long into the night, but after a few hours, the events of the day and late night the night before had him seeking out his bed.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t concerned about _ok kest_.

If she wasn’t feeling better by the morning, he was going to the apothecary across the village for something to help her.

He entered the dark room, his eyes trying to adjust to the lack of light. He summoned a small, dim magelight to not disturb _ok kest_ as she rested. He tugged off his gloves with a sigh. He was so tired.

 _Ok kest_ sat up in the bed.

“ _Bo zek wah laag, mal kest.”_ He chided gently.

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep.” She rose, bare feet padding across the stone floor, near silent. Her eyes always seemed to glow, but now, it seemed as if they actually _were_ glowing.

“ _Mal kest-_ “

She cut him off, her lips pressed to his.

He blinked for a moment, before reciprocating. Gods, he had wanted to kiss her for months now.

He buried a hand into her long hair, his other arm coming to wrap around her hips to pull her flush to his chest. She pushed against him, walking him backwards until his back met the wooden wall behind him.

Her lips were so soft, her touch scorching with the _dovah_ under her skin trying to get to him. His very soul felt like it was on fire, the _dovah_ under his skin demanding to be unleashed.

Time no longer existed, the world no longer existed, it was just the two of them, like this.

She broke away, taking all his air with her, and she trailed kisses along his jaw, and his neck.

Now that he had a moment to think, to _breathe_. This, didn’t seem right.

“ _Dii kest.”_ He whispered.

She continued to kiss and suck at his neck.

“ _Dii strun._ ”

She still ignored him.

“Cara.”

He pulled her away from him, to look at her.

She was breathing hard, her eyes, _were_ in fact glowing, and he could see in the dim light, through her parted lips, her teeth.

They were far, far longer than they should be.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” she purred. No, even her voice was off. “Don’t you want me?”

She lunged at him, but Miraak used his strength to flip their positions, pinning her to the wall, a hand around her throat. She snarled at him, fangs bared, her fingers digging into her forearm as she thrashed, trying to get free.

Panic set in. How had this happened? What can he do?

He cast a powerful sleeping spell on her, and she collapsed, the priest catching her and holding her close to him.

The other mage, Falion. He said the day before he studied vampires. He would know what to do with her. How to fix this.

Miraak picked her up bridal style, keeping her close to him. Now that he could think straight, he felt how cold she was.

Cold like the grave.

He hurried out of the tavern, thankful the town was quiet now.

It was very late, or actually very early in the morning, dawn not a few hours out.

Miraak made a beeline to Falion’s house, and kicked on the door.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he heard through the door before the disgruntled mage pulled it open, immediately his attention on _ok kest_.

“What happened?”

“Fix this.”

Falion gestured for the Atmoran to come inside, and he cleared off the table.

“Put her here.”

Miraak set her down gently on the rough wooden table.

The other mage took one of her hands in his.

“Cold,” he looked at her teeth. “Fangs. What color was her eyes? Were they a red-orange color?”

“No, but they were glowing.”

“Good, she hasn’t fed yet. I can bring her back. Why didn’t you do something before now?”

“Neither of us were bit.”

“For Sanguine Vampiris to set in so quickly, this was a powerful and old vampire. All it takes is a scratch from them and you are infected.”

“She was scratched by the leader.”

“That’ll do it then. Is she knocked out or sleeping?”

“Spell. She’ll sleep as long as I need her to.”

“Good. Now in order to do this, with how quickly this set in, I’ll need three filled black soul gems. We’re bringing her back from the dead. We need life to do that.”

“I’ll return in a moment.”

“Wait- you don’t just happen to have three filled _black soul gems_ on you?”

“The nest had several. I will return shortly.”

Miraak nearly ran back to the inn, took his pack and emptied the contents of it on the dresser, snagging the gems, and returning to Falion.

He strode into the house and handed the mage the soul gems.

“Right, you take her, and follow me. We need to work quickly, we can only do this at the break of dawn, when vampires are at their weakest.”

Miraak scooped her up, and followed Falion out into the marsh, the other mage guiding them with a magelight.

Soon, they came to a circle with standing stones and rune carvings in a large, circular stone altar.

“Place her in the center, and erect a barrier, if you can.”

Miraak placed a powerful ward around the circle, sealing her in.

“Now, as we wait, I’m going to warn you, since you seem to care about her a great deal-“ Miraak snapped his head to the mage, his eyes narrowing. “It’s clear as day, don’t deny it. As I was saying, be prepared for what’s about to happen. She’s dead, right now. The woman you think you know is dead. The creature she’s become will do anything it can to protect itself. And this will be painful, very painful. We’re forcing her body to come back to life. And when it’s all done, someone, and since you’re here, it’ll be you, has to breathe life back into her. And after, she'll be immune to the disease.”

“Breathe life into her?”

“You have to literally give her a breath of life. Or she really does die. So when I tell you when, you go.”

The Dragon Priest nodded.

They sat around for a while, before the first rays of light started to break.

“Now, we start now.”

Falion started to chant in Daedric, and she started to glow.

She woke, a scream tearing from her throat and making the heavens shake.

Falion covered his ears, but did not waiver.

Miraak stood stoic, his featured schooled into a passive expression, though his jaw clenched, the pressure making his teeth ache. 

She writhed on the stone altar, her eyes snapped to his.

“Miraak- my darling-“ sounds of pain interrupted her speech, her voice filled with pain and anguish. “You promised me! You promised me you would never hurt me!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her too-pale cheeks.

Another scream tore from her throat. This time his name. 

His visage cracked. He forced the tears that were forming away.

It wasn’t her.

This isn’t her.

 _“Zu dreh ni kren kaat, dii lovaas.”_ He said, more to himself than to her.

Minutes passed, though it felt like agonizing hours. Soon, Falion stopped his chanting, the soul gems broken at his feet.

One last scream shook the marsh, and Miraak vaguely heard dragons roar in the distance, before she lay still on the stone, her eyes open, unseeing up into the dawnbroken sky.

“Now!”

Miraak dropped the ward and rushed to her, closing her nose and giving her his breath.

He sat back on his heels, as she blinked, and took a deep, gasping breath. Then another. Another.

Gently picking her up, he cradled her to his chest. 

“Miraak?” she asked, her eyes unfocused.

“I’m here, _dii lovaas._ ”

She reached for him, before passing out.

“ _Mage_!” his own Voice boomed across the marsh.

Falion came next to them. “She’s fine. They always pass out after this. We brought her body back from the dead, it takes its toll on someone. She’ll sleep the rest of the day.”

The mage stood, as did Miraak, taking _ok kest_ with him.

“She’s the Dragonborn, isn’t she?”

Miraak’s stormy blue eyes bore into the Redguard.

“I’ve never heard that kind of power before, ever. And you seem to be able to do it too. There’s been rumor, that the Dragonborn has been traveling with a masked man, a brute of a man. You rather fit the description.”

The sound of a dragon roar and the flap of wings approached them.

Falion panicked.

A red _dovah_ flew fast and low over them. Miraak knew the glint of those scales.

_“Odahviing!”_

The dragon landed with a thud, shaking the ground.

“ _Vax Miraak!_ What have you done with _dii briinah?”_

“I saved her. Leave me be.” Miraak turned from the dragon.

“I have heard your _Thu’um_ along with hers, so I knew you were alive. I came at her sounds of distress. And find you responsible for them.”

“ _Rek lost vukul, Odahviing. Zu sav ek nol ek dez.”_ he said, looking over her shoulder at the _dov_.

“I will stay here and guard her, _Vax_.”

“You will go back to your _stunmah_. I have her.”

The dragon huffed fire and narrowed his eyes at the First Dragonborn. “I will not be far, _Vax_. Know that.”

Miraak continued back to the town, Odahviing taking off behind him, Falion hot on his heels.

“You can talk to the dragons?”

“I am _Diist Dovahkiin._ The first Dragonborn. _Dii kest_ is _Laat Dovahkiin_. The last Dragonborn. You will speak of it to no one.”

“I don’t keep up with Nord nonsense, but two Dragonborn in the same era? That’s unheard of. And wasn’t Tiber Septim Dragonborn? And you were before him?”

“I am four thousand years old, mage. I am exhausted and are done answering your questions.”

Several guards met them near the entrance to the village, Miraak brushing them off, leaving Falion to explain why there were bloodcurdling screams that echoed through the marsh.

Her screams would haunt him the rest of his life, he knew. They were forever etched into his brain, and though he was exhausted, completely and utterly, he would find it difficult for sleep to take him.

He refused to acknowledge it before, but now, he was forced to face his affections for her head on.

He loved her. And he nearly lost her this night.

Miraak knew her well enough by now that should would rather die than be a creature like that, one that exists off of pain, suffering, violence.

He also knew her well enough that she would ask him to end it for her, so she wouldn’t be a danger to him, or to anyone else.

He gripped her tighter as he made it back to the tavern, her skin warm again. Full of life again.

Gently depositing her into the bed, he pulled off his boots and the rest of his outerwear before collapsing into the bed.

He pulled her close to him. He needed to know that she was still there, still alive. Hours must have passed before sleep finally took him, her cries of pain and anguish still to fresh in his ears and mind.

* * *

Miraak had no idea how long they slept for, only that he woke when she stirred, when he felt her leave his side.

“ _Dii kest_?” his voice was deeper, groggy from sleep.

Slight confusion washed over her, as she held her head and winced in pain.

“What happened? I hardly drank and yet I feel like death. And I’m _parched_.”

“You do not remember?”

“I remember the feast, coming back to the room, then not much of anything after that. I had a rather terrible nightmare, but that’s it.”

He stared at her. She didn’t remember then?

“What? What happened?”

Still he was silent.

“Miraak, what happened?”

“You became a _vukul_.” he said after another long silence. 

She blinked at him. “I- _What?”_

“You were scratched. Apparently if they are powerful enough, that is all it takes. The mage, Falion, cured you.”

“How did you even know? Gods, did I bite someone? Did I-“

“ _Niid._ Had you did, you would have been incurable.”

“Then how did you know?”

He paused. Should he tell her? Should he tell her about how badly he wanted to kiss her that he let her kiss him? That he very nearly got his throat ripped out because she tried to seduce him? The mage said it was obvious that he cared for her. Perhaps her predatory vampire-self had sensed that, sensed his weakness for her, and sought to use it against him?

“You tried to rip my throat out.” Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“Mara’s mercy, I’m so sorry Miraak-“

“It’s fine, _mal kest_. You could not control yourself. It was handled. At least you are immune to them now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are immune to _vukul_. That is what the mage said.”

“I want to speak with him later, I- I need to think.”

Miraak got up, his joints stiff from laying down so long, and retrieved her waterskin and handed it to her.

“If you are feeling able, we should leave as soon as we can. Put as much distance between us and this _duraal lohiim_ as possible.”

She took a long drink. “After I we eat, we can go. I still feel terrible, but I’d rather feel terrible and be halfway home than feel terrible and stay here.”

He nodded, quickly getting dressed and ready before leaving the room to her. He needed to distance himself from her right now, the events of, whenever it was. He wasn’t sure what day it was, how long they slept. Her anguish was still fresh in his mind. Her cries for him to help her.

She called his name more than once.

The priest would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of her screaming his name, though it was under _far_ different circumstances. She cried for him, to save her, to help her.

That he had broken his promise to never harm her.

Perhaps in a way, he had. It was because _he_ brought her to Falion that she went through such pain. Pain she doesn’t even remember. But he also didn’t break his promise. The mage had said that that wasn’t her, that she was gone, dead, in those moments. He had to cause her pain to save her life. Despite the screams that now still even echoed in his mind, he would do it again, and again, and again, if it meant saving her life.

He had to face it, face himself. He loved her. He loved her even when he was convinced he could never love anyone.

He loved her, and it caused him pain to even look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE GETTING TOGETHER
> 
> For real I enjoy vampire!Cara and I'll probs get to writing some one-shots or drabble aus for dark!Cara eventually
> 
> The song and tbh the inspiration for Cara's voice is Florence Welsh, the song is Jenny of Oldstones, just with an Altmer name in place of Jenny.
> 
> Bron - Nord  
> Hiraas - Exquisite  
> Bo zek wah laag - Go back to sleep  
> Zu dreh ni kren kaat, dii lovaas - I do not break a promise, my song.  
> Vax - traitor  
> Dii briinah - my sister  
> Rek lost vukul, Odahviing. Zu sav ek nol ek dez. - She was a vampire, Odahviing. I saved her from her fate.  
> Strunmah - mountain  
> Duraal lohiim - cursed town


	14. Faad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the year approaches, and winter sets in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, I had to move in and start classes, my oven somehow caught fire??? And just dealing with all the stress of starting my last year of my undergrad. I'll try my best to get the last chapter out as soon as I can. Thank you all for being so patient!
> 
> Chapter title translation - Warmth

Falion stopped them as they left Morthal late that morning, asking how Cara was doing. Her head was splitting, and it seemed no matter how much water she drank, she was still parched. The mage said that that was normal, and would pass soon.

Cara was hoping that it would pass sooner rather than later.

They were both silent for most of the day, the roads quiet, the only sounds their horse's hooves on the snowy cobblestone.

Cara’s mind was preoccupied with this morning, when Miraak had called her _dii kest_. He had never called her that before. And yet, it seemed as if he had?

She thought she fell asleep after she left the party, but it seems like that wasn’t the case. Distantly, she remembered a hazy dream.

Everything was blurry, and Cara wasn’t even sure if she was remembering anything right.

She dreamt of him. She wasn’t herself. She was far too forward, to sure in her movements. She had been kissed, _once_. Perhaps it was why it was a dream? She could be something she wasn’t.

It wasn’t the first time she had dreamt of him, of kissing him. It never went farther than that, no matter if she did want him, physically. Even her subconscious knew that was never to happen. He was too distant to her, even still. He always seemed to want to be near her, touch her, but it was always proper, at least by Nord or Imperial standards. Never wandering hands, always respectful of her boundaries. She figured he was touch-starved, and after four thousand years in isolation, it didn’t surprise her.

Her dream self had stolen his kisses, reveling in it, in everything about him. The heat of him, the scorching power of the _dovah_ under his skin.

Her dream turned into a nightmare when he flipped them, pining her to the wall by the neck. He wouldn’t hurt her. He said he wouldn’t.

Flashes of long golden blond hair, cold green eyes, a pressure on her throat cutting off her screams for help. Deep golden hands trying to hike her skirts up.

Her dream had changed after that, and she thought before had been the start of a nightmare, paled in comparison to what her sleeping mind had forced her to experience.

Pain, indescribable pain. She had never in her life ever experienced such pain. She felt as if her very being was on fire, that she was being ripped apart from the inside out.

She couldn’t recall if she called for Miraak through it all. But she couldn’t understand how she had not woken up like any other nightmare.

A part of her wondered if any of it was a dream? But Miraak would have told her, wouldn’t he?

* * *

They stopped at the Nightgate Inn a few days out of Morthal for the night. The nights were getting far colder, and the weather was taking a sharp turn for the worse. It wouldn’t surprise Cara if they got caught in a blizzard on the way back to Winterhold, though she hoped that their luck would hold out until then.

Her body still seemed a little off, even after several days of being cured of vampirism. She noticed a change in Miraak as well, as he seemed to be avoiding her more. Well, as much as he could with their close proximity.

He was silent, even more so than normal. He had donned his mask, but she knew it wasn’t to ward off the weather, but to hide behind it. He didn’t look at her when he did speak to her. And he seemed averse to touching her. Was it because she was a vampire, even for such a short time? Was it because she tried to feed off him? None of those things she remembered. She’d ask him, but she was afraid of what he would say.

They were getting ready for bed after a long day, when Cara noticed a small bruise on his neck.

“What happened to your neck?” she asked. She saw his eyes widen a fraction, his hand coming to his neck to cover the mark, a soft golden glow emanating from his hand.

“It’s nothing.”

He turned from her, his back and broad shoulders closing off her off from the rest of the room.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was quiet, unsure.

He said nothing but pulled back the furs and climbed into the bed, his back to her.

His emotions were all over the place, to the point where she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. He was conflicted, that much she could tell, but beyond that it was a messy tangle of emotions that made her head ache.

Cara liked to think that he would tell her what was bothering him, but that was wishful thinking, as the man _never_ said what was wrong with him.

She stood at the other side of the bed, fidgeting her hands. “Miraak, whatever I did, I don’t remember. I’m sorry, I had no control over my actions, but that’s no excuse. I just-“

“ _Mal kest_.” He had turned over a bit to look at her. “It was nothing you had control over.”

“Then why are you avoiding me like you are?”

He sat up. His storm blue-grey eyes met hers for the first time in days. “You’ve ruined everything. You ruined my plans, and saved me from a plan that likely would have gotten me killed.” His gaze left her own, resting on the wall in front of him. “I- I have not been close to anyone, since the Cult. Since before I began to plot my rebellion. The pain and your screams that echoed and thundered across the marsh… It was harrowing.”

“I’m sorry.” she had no idea, had no idea he cared about her enough to be this shaken.

“It’s not your fault. I just need to be alone when we return to the College.”

“I understand.” As hard as she tried, Cara couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice, and she knew he picked up on it from how his intense eyes snapped back to her. She climbed into the bed, and a small movement of her hand blew out the candles. She felt Miraak shift beside her, and her better vision in the dark showed him resettled in the position he was in before, his back to her, and on the edge of the bed. 

He did at least tell her what was bothering him, which was progress? He was open about what he was feeling, even if it wasn’t much. Cara knew she needed to sleep, but she also knew that he was not asleep either. Dwelling on his words, his want to be alone, they were unselfish actions. Her own want to be close to him didn’t matter.

Her pain had been harrowing to him, as he said. Cara didn’t think that anything could shake the Dragon Priest.

* * *

The tension was palpable the rest of the journey back to Winterhold.

They hardly spoke to one another, and Miraak could tell that his desire to be alone, away from her had affected her in a way he didn’t foresee.

She was acting detached, much like he would.

They parted when they returned to the College, though Miraak gathered his few things and moved them into the room that was ‘his’ when he first got to the College. The room he spent but a sparse handfuls of nights in, when he would fall asleep in her quarters.

He was putting what few clothes he had away into the dresser when he felt someone behind him.

“You know, you really ought to do something about whatever it was you did.”

Miraak turned, and came face to face with a Dunmer, lines of red war paint running down his face, his dark hair cropped to just a stripe down the center.

The priest turned back to his task, ignoring the elf.

“I haven’t known Cara terribly long, but I do know that if you two don't work it out, two things will happen.”

Rolling his eyes, Miraak glanced over his shoulder. “And what would that be?”

“Well, for one, it’s a bit too late in the year to go off gallivanting unless you wanna stay hold up in the south or in a bigger city, so the both of you, and everyone else here is going to have to deal with your lover’s spat.”

“It’s not a-“

“Bullshit. Anyone with eyes can see how in love you two are.”

Miraak faced the elf fully, his patience wearing thinner the more the other man kept talking.

“And the second thing, if you don’t do something, another man will.”

Miraak’s eyes narrowed. “Like you?” his tone was low.

The Dumner cracked a smile. “She’s a beautiful woman, but not terribly my type. But she _is_ that big, brooding Companion’s type. When he was here he looked like he wanted to eat her. Among other things.”

“I do not care what she does.”

The elf leaned against the doorframe. “You keep telling yourself that. You didn’t see the shit she went through to get you out of Apocrypha.”

“I saw enough.”

The elf’s red eyes stared at the priest. “You say you don’t care about what she does, and yet you still follow her like a lost puppy when she calls.”

Miraak’s icy glare did nothing to deter the elf.

“Look, all I’m saying is, whatever it was that happened between you two, that you need to work through it. She deserves better than that.”

Miraak was silent for a few moments, and the elf moved out of his doorway, past the privacy curtain.

“She does.” He whispered.

* * *

Miraak and Cara saw little of one another for the next several weeks.

She looked no worse for wear, from his point of view. She seemed a bit somber, her smiles not as genuine, tight.

He thought his distance would ease what was plaguing him, but he only found himself missing her presence.

She was calming, soothing, grounding. Despite the months that he had been out of Apocrypha, he found his dreams often plagued by memories he had pushed aside, or his mind conjured new scenarios of his long years imprisoned. He hadn’t thought on it before, but his subconscious must have been using her to ground himself, but upon reflection, he knew that was one of his driving factors to living with her in her quarters, his desire to not be alone. He had four thousand years of being alone.

After he woke suddenly early one morning, Miraak knew that further sleep was out of the question, and decided to go for a walk around the campus.

He redressed, but didn’t bother with a cloak. The frigid late Sun’s Dusk air would do him well.

The priest wandered for a bit, before deciding to wander on upper level of the towers and walls, rather than in just the courtyard. He was surprised that he was not the only occupant of the section he was on.

 _Ok kest_ was leaning on the bannister, her cloak whipping around her, her hair flying in the breeze. She looked almost mournfully out to the Sea of Ghosts.

“What are you doing up here at this hour?” he asked her.

She seemed startled by his approach, her violet eyes widening, her shoulders jumping ever so slightly.

“I can’t sleep. You?”

“Neither can I.”

He took up a spot next to her, mimicking her position, though he was leaning down farther than she had to for his elbows to rest against the frozen stone.

“Why can’t you sleep?” she asked him.

He was silent. She didn’t need to know that he was weak, that he was plagued by nightmares.

“It’s about Apocrypha, isn’t it?” He almost couldn’t hear her words over the wind whipping around them.

How could she know?

She glanced at him. “If I was in Apocrypha for four thousand years, I’d have nightmares too. It’s the only reason to be up at this hour.”

“You have nightmares?” he asked her, trying to shift the topic from himself but also because he wanted to know what wrong.

She gave a derisive laugh. “Things from my past I’d rather like to forget. I’m not entirely sure why they’ve come up, but they’re there. And they won’t go away.”

“Such as?” there was a softness to his voice that surprised even him.

“When I was still on Summerset-“ she paused, and shook her head. “Nevermind. It happened a long time ago and I don’t want to talk about it.”

He wanted to know what was invading her mind, making her so unhappy, but he didn’t press.

“I-“ she began, but ducked her head and didn’t continue.

 _“Mal kest_?” he asked, turning his body to look at her better.

“It’s foolish. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me.”

She turned her gaze to his. “I miss you. Our conversations, you just being around.”

“I miss your company as well.”

“Then come back. We can go back to the way it was before, before I got myself turned into a vampire.”

“That was not your fault.”

She shook her head. “If it was or wasn’t doesn’t matter. It caused a rift between us and I can’t stand it.”

“I will come back, if you will have me.”

She smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Cara woke the next morning, feeling better than she had in weeks, and she knew it was due to the return of the warm man she was currently using as a pillow.

Miraak was still sleeping softly, his grip on her gentle yet firm, holding her close to his side.

The elf stayed there for a while, content to be close to him once again. She had hoped, last night, after their talk, that perhaps she would gain the courage to tell him how she felt about him, and yet, she couldn’t.

Eventually, she slipped from the bed, and dressed comfortably. She had no classes to teach today, so she would get to working more on Miraak’s New Life present. The last several weeks she managed to get a good amount done on the robes, bits of armor being attached to the robes she had cut out and she had drawn out the embroidery work and had gotten both the sleeves done, and she was now working on the front collar.

The robes were a deep purple, a warm and soft wool from a rare breed of sheep in the highlands of High Rock. The color would suit him perfectly. She had commissioned Eorland to make new armor pieces for this robe, and she anchored them into the fabric and hid the reinforcements under the lining.

She had yet to enchant the fabric, leaving it for the last part.

Lounging on her daybed, she heard Miraak stir, and she smiled to herself.

Things were going back to where they were before, and she hoped, perhaps just a bit too much, that at the College’s celebration of the new year, she would let him know of her feelings, even if he didn’t reciprocate them.

Teldryn had pulled her aside a few days back, telling her how in love Miraak was with her, as if it was an obvious thing. She wanted to believe the elf, but she still had her doubts. She wouldn’t believe it until the man in question told her so.

She gently hummed a song from her childhood, stitching away.


	15. Yun Laat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Life festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS LADS, THE MOMENT WE'VE WAITED FOR
> 
> Chapter title translation - New Life

Winter had well and truly set in.

A quiet but electric mood settled over the College. The winter was the prime season for the mages to get their work, experiments, and studies done, as Winterhold was snowed in and made traveling difficult if not impossible at times.

Cara and Miraak had settled back into their regular routine, in a way. Miraak had begun lecturing several times a week on the Dragon Cult, jointly sometimes with Cara.

Cara began her weapons training, much to her chagrin.

She wasn’t weak, per se, as she’s carried so many research materials and books across provinces before, but she was using muscles she didn’t know she had. 

Miraak was a firm teacher, barking orders at her, drilling her. They would be using the open spaces in the Hall of the Elements as their practice ground, unless the weather let up just a little and she could train up on the expansive upper levels outside. On those days, despite her activity, she felt like she was going to freeze to death.

Teldryn would help as well, as a sparring partner so Miraak could observe her from afar.

“Keep your guard up.” The priest barked.

Cara grit her teeth. She was exhausted, and her limbs felt like they were going to give out. They had been doing this for the entire day, no breaks.

Teldryn struck her side, and her legs gave out, her wooden practice staff clattered out of her hands.

She grit her teeth as she landed hard on the cold stone. She heard Miraak let out a huff.

“Leave us.” He told the elf.

“Thanks for helping, Teldryn, I owe you one, Teldryn.” The Dunmer mocked in a deeper register than his own voice, sauntering out of the Hall.

Miraak picked up the staff. “Get up. You can’t just lay on the ground in defeat. You’re better than that.”

“I can’t move, Miraak. You’ve made me do this all day, no breaks, no rests. I’m exhausted, my limbs are numb.”

“Good. That means it’s working.”

Cara looked up at him. “You can’t honestly be serious? This is no way to train. The body needs proper rest in order to heal, or you risk injury.”

His stormy eyes locked with hers. Neither party would give.

“You need to train harder. I’m not going to coddle you just because-“ he stopped himself.

“Just because what?” her tone was just _almost_ mocking.

“I will not treat you any different than I would anyone else. You need to master the staff, so you can train with a bladed one, so you can protect yourself.”

“I _can_ protect myself.”

“Your magic alone couldn’t protect you from a vampire’s curse.”

His words hung in the air.

They hadn’t spoken about that since they had cleared the air between them nearly two weeks ago.

Cara suddenly found the floor very interesting.

She heard the rustle of fabric, and his footsteps approach her, kneeling down at more her height while sitting on the cold stone. He gently cupped her jaw, bringing her gaze back to him.

“I push because I care, _mal kest_. You’re formidable, that much is clear. But having practical skill with a weapon will put my mind more at ease, knowing that even if you magic fails you, if you Voice fails you, you have options.” His voice was quiet, his deep baritone washing over her.

She gently smiled at him. “I know you care, which is also why you need to listen to me when I say I’ve had enough. I need to rest for a few days. This pace is just too much.”

He stood, offering her his hand. She took it, her legs still a bit weak, but Miraak slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

His expression had changed, even just a fraction. “I’ll have one of the servants draw you a hot bath, and we will continue after you’ve rested. Does that satisfy you?”

“Thank you.”

If anything, Cara was grateful for the excuse to spend the next several days working on his New Life gift. His insistence for constant practice had made her too tired or too busy to work on it, and she was afraid that she wouldn’t finish it on time now. Nothing a few late nights and some tea couldn’t help.

* * *

Cara’s muscles screamed at her for the next several days, no matter how many soothing teas she brewed, hot baths and healing she did on herself. She mostly stayed on the daybed, working on Miraak’s gift as well as she could, the Atmoran not straying too far from her, but to go and lecture for a few hours.

“What are you working on?” he asked her one evening, his stormy eyes looked closely at her handywork. “ _Dovahzul_?” he asked.

“I need a new robe.” She lied. “Every few years during winter I make a new one for myself, as mine usually gets a little worse for wear with everything that goes on.” Not terribly a lie, because after this one was completed, she would start on her new one. Her favorite one was getting a bit worse for wear. Patching and darning the worn holes and tears and cuts was making it more repairs than the old fabric was. The faded blue needed to change.

“Purple?” he asked.

“It’s a good color for me, apparently.”

He hummed in agreement, going back to what he was working on, preparing a new lecture, it seemed.

“How are you liking teaching?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her work.

“Your students leave much to be desired in terms of magical talent.” He grumbled.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re lecturing and not teaching a magics course.”

“One of them mentioned how you were planning an expedition to the South. And I remember you speaking to Tolfdir about it.”

She smiled, looking up at him. “Yes. I’m not sure if it will happen this summer, but next summer I want to take those interested to Cyrodiil. Get some exploration and experience. Maybe we’ll even just go in the winter, take the season there while its not too hot and not much can be done here. That, and these Nords will melt in the Cyrodillic summer.”

“It can’t be that warm.”

A dark brow rose. “You say that, because you have never been past the Jeralls before. You’ve really only ever worn wool, with how cold it is here. You wear even one layer of your regular attire in Cyrodiil in the summer and you’re likely to pass out from the heat. And it’s even hotter in Summerset.”

“Why would anyone want to live there?” he asked, disbelieving.

“I could ask you the same thing about here. The very air hurts your face here. At least in Summerset, the ocean can cool you off.”

Miraak shook his head. “When you go, I would like to come with. To see more of the world than Atmora and Skyrim.”

She softly smiled at him. “Of course. I can understand the want. I’ve always wanted to see Akavir, or even Aldmeris, if it even still exists. Or ever did.”

“Then go.”

“What? Just drop all my responsibilities and sail to Akavir?”

“Why not?”

“Why in the first place? You don’t just dive off a cliff because you have the urge to jump. Not anyone I’ve heard of has come back from Akavir. Not recently anyway.”

He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quiet place. His emotions were, quiet, soft around the edges, for once. “One day you will, I’m sure.”

“And what about you? Just want me out of the way so you can take over an island again?” she teased.

A corner of his lips pulled up. “You’ve figured out my grand plan.”

“I guess I’m just very good at being a pain in your side.”

He turned his gaze back to his work. “A very welcome one.” He said softly, and Cara guessed if it wasn’t for her sharper hearing, she would have had a hard time hearing him. She smiled, and returned to her stitching.

She had made great progress in the last several days, though her hands were beginning to hate her a little. The New Life festival was in just a little over a week, and she was sure she was going be able to finish this in time.

She couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Cara knew that the priest had a taste for finer things, though he would never admit it. She noticed how some of her bath salts were low, and that she hadn’t used them, how he would make his tea, expensive in its own right, though always bringing her a cup as well. He preferred to be clean always if he could help it, which was something that was either left over from the cult or was a sign on his status as First Mage. Skyrim was harsh, and often its people didn’t have the luxuries of the bathhouses of Summerset or the warmer climates of the world had.

The dragon script she was embordering was nonsense to him, but to her, Aldmeris words, translated to _dovahzul_ , were old enchantments of protection, valor, love. He wouldn’t understand them; they would just be nonsense words to him, but their magic would be the same.

The golden script was all she had left to do, minus the physical enchantments she had to put on the garments yet. That would come last.

While Cara was excited for the small festival the College put on to ring in the new year, she couldn’t help the anxiety that was setting in as well.

She told herself that no matter what, she would tell him how she felt about him at the festival. While she dreaded his rejection, she felt that she could no longer sit on the weight of her silence. She loved him. That much she knew. The more Cara thought about it, the clearer it became, and their time apart made it all the more clear.

She just hoped that he wouldn’t reject her and then leave, disgusted by her affections. In her heart she knew that that would not be the case, he would just tell her that he thought of her only as a colleague, a friend, even. Not as a lover.

Cara wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, as the end of the year approached quicker than she wanted.

* * *

Miraak was perplexed.

The entire College has seemed to drop their studies in favor of preparing for a festival, which they would celebrate in the evening and through the night. A festival he didn’t know existed or was happening.

The cult celebrated the new year, offering tributes to the dragons, hosting feasts and dancing, but the priests used the time as a gathering for themselves; all the priests converging to Bronjunnar to hold council and hold ceremony for their dragon overlords.

“ _Mal kest?_ ” he asked, as she was helping levitate several tables into their position in the Hall of the Elements.

“Yes, darling?”

“How have I not known about this?”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, before setting the tables down and brushing her hands.

“Every year, the College hosts a New Life celebration. We invite the townsfolk of Winterhold, but they never come. It slipped my mind that you might not be familiar with the New Life festival.”

“It’s just a feast, is it not?”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yes and no. Gifts are also exchanged usually.”

Ah, of course. And now he had nothing to give her. “I see.”

“Not always, just between friends and it’s not usually much.”

Even still, they were friends, yes? He wanted to gift her something. Where would he even begin to start?

Miraak had no idea what gift would ever suffice for her. Or what she could ever want.

If he could, he’d give her her home back, with how much she speaks of missing the warms sands of Summerset’s beaches, her culture, her family.

But they were thousands of miles away from Summerset, and judging by what he’s seen and heard, they would likely not be the most welcome to its shores.

For not the first time since she fell into his life, he was at a loss.

She was distracted with preparations, so he left her to her work, to not distract her, and instead sought out _sovrahzun_.

He found the Dunmer lounging by the kitchens, leaning against the wall and swiping food off the counters when he could get away with it.

“ _Sovrahzun._ I would speak with you.”

“I have a name, priest.”

Miraak’s frown deepened.

“What do you want? If it’s to help Cara train, I’m not interested. It’s the holiday. Give her a break.”

“It’s not that.” He paused. “I wish to gift her something, as I was not aware of this custom until but a bit ago.”

The elf waggled his eyebrows. “I know what you can give her.”

The Atmoran’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare disrespect her like that.”

The elf rolled his eyes. “Get a sense of humor, Miraak. But at this short notice, that’s about all you got.

“And if it makes you feel even worse, Onmund said it’s also her nameday today. But don’t take that too hard, I didn’t know either until he said something about it.”

Miraak blinked. Her nameday? Her nameday was today?

Did he even remember his own?

He shook his head. “I assume the customs are different than they were in my day.”

“And they’re different for Altmer too. From what I understand it’s all ceremonies and boring speeches. Apparently she doesn’t make a fuss about it, and the only reason anyone knows about it is because Onmund said Brelyna made it a point to learn all the Master’s namedays for some reason.”

“I see. Now I truly am at a disadvantage.”

The elf clapped Miraak on the shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad, you know she doesn’t care about that kind of thing. I’m sure she’s just happy you’re happy. She’s a kind woman. Too kind for a lot of the shit that goes on in this world.

“And if you’re really feeling guilty, just do as I said.” He said, before ducking out of Miraak’s reach, a cockeyed smile on his lips.

* * *

The bustling activities of the College soon turned to that of merrymaking.

And Miraak, dare he say it, was actually having fun.

Unlike the feast that was thrown for them in Morthal, this time, the people were those he knew, had conversations with, even if they were short. And despite his aloof nature to them all, they treated him like he had always been at the College.

At some point, instruments were pulled out, and a few began playing, Cara snagging a lute and gently plucking the strings and softly singing.

It was getting later and later into the evening, and it seemed as if no one was yet tired.

“Darling, if you’d come with me a moment? Before it’s midnight?”

He followed her out of the Hall of the Elements, and up to their shared quarters, his heart hammering in his chest. Why were they up here? What was she planning?

As if she sensed his anxiety, she gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand.

He followed her to their actual living space, past the curtain wall that separated their work area.

“Wait here a moment.” She left him, disappearing into their room, before returning a short moment later, a large wrapped parcel in her hands.

“No one deserves a new life than you, after everything. It’s not much but, I wanted to do something for you.”

His gaze flickered between the package and her.

Gingerly, he took it, and set it down on the messy table, his fingers tearing though the brown paper.

What he saw stole every thought from his mind.

The First Dragonborn was rendered speechless by her gift. The amount of hours, weeks, _months_ even of careful planning to create this for him.

The robe was a deep, rich purple, the gold draconic embroidery that wound and spun and danced across the fabric seemed to be protection charms almost, the words almost nonsensical but her intent and now obvious deep affections permeated the fabric.

Even the armor was new, shiny, freshly forged, and the magic of powerful protection enchantments hummed under his fingers.

But even though her elegant and masterful craftsmanship was apparent, what truly struck him was the new mask she presented him with.

"It might not be anything you want- or even want to use, but I just thought that your mask might bring up memories best left in the past."

He ran his fingers across the smooth golden metal. It was similar to Konahrik, though different enough to be his own. Instead of the tusks that protruded from her mask, his was crowned in short horns, much like his old mask.

His stormy blue eyes met hers. "Why?" he choked out, his stoic composure collapsing.

Her eyes swirled with a familiar enough emotion, though he could not put a name to it.

"Because I love you."

He abandoned her gift, instead cupping her face in both his hands and bringing her lips to his own.

This kiss was so different from when she had kissed him in Morthal.

Her lips were divinely soft and he caught and stole the small gasp that escaped her lips. He felt her hands grip into his tunic trying to pull him even closer to her.

He could feel her tentativeness, her motions unsure but eager all the same. One of his hands left her jaw, coming instead to wrap around her waist, trying to bring her as close as he could.

The _dovah_ inside him _roared_ , his skin burning at her touch. It was like a drug, and he was getting drunk off her very essence.

Finally, the need for air was too great, and they parted, panting lightly.

Her eyes were dazzling, and he felt as if his entire being had shifted.

“Cara.” He whispered against her lips, before catching them with his own again. He could feel her smile into the kiss.

They parted again, her hands leaving his chest, coming to cup his jaw, mirroring his earlier actions.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” she teased.

It really wasn’t but now was not the time for that.

“I-“ he started, before adverting his eyes away from her. She tilted her head, and waited for him to continue.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. But the words just wouldn’t come out.

“You’ve changed _everything_. Words cannot suffice.”

She smiled softly, her thumb rubbing along his jaw.

“I wanted to tell you how I felt weeks ago, but I just couldn’t.” she said, her voice quiet, full of what he now recognized as love. He felt her gently trace the scar on his chin.

He leaned down, bringing their lips together again, willing himself to say the words. He was certain he had never said them before. To anyone. Not even his brother.

He broke the kiss, and whispered against her lips, " _Zu lokaal hi_.”

She broke into a grin and pulled him down into a searing kiss that stole his breath and made him dizzy.

When they parted again, she looked up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“I still can’t believe that it was just a few months ago that I found you.”

“You saved me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, Miraak wrapping both his arms around her, holding her close to him.

He had no idea how much time passed with the two of them just standing like that, but she pulled away, but not out of his arms.

“We should get back to the festivities, or else Teldryn will tease us both relentlessly.”

“He said it was your nameday?”

“Actually, it’s tomorrow. The first of Morning Star.”

“I have nothing to gift you.” He murmured.

She pecked him on the lips. “You’re all I could ask for, my darling.”

The First Dragonborn held the Last close to him, mesmerized by how the winds of fate had blown this tempest of a woman into his life, plucked him from Apocrypha, and changed his life so irrevocably.

He smiled, a true smile, for what was the first time in over four thousand years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sovrahzun - mercenary  
> Zu lokaal hi - I love you
> 
> Okay this is highkey the first fic I've actually completed I'm so proud of myself because I always loose interest like half way through. 
> 
> This is will not be the last we see of them! I have three large fics planned, two smaller ones before I tackle the next big one. I'm in my last year of my undergrad and I won't have much time to write, so I'll do those smaller lads and then some one shots, drabbles, and of course, Fictober!  
> aureliu_s and I have created our own prompt list, which will soon be posted on our tumblrs, so keep an eye out for that if you wanna write from it, tag me in it! I wanna read your stuff!
> 
> Thank you, so, so much for all of those that have read, liked and commented on this. It really means so much to me. Y'all are the best!
> 
> Till next time!


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